


Black Banners

by Finnegan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 71,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finnegan/pseuds/Finnegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here, in this land, kings fight to the death to secure their riches and power; a Queen rises from the depths of hell to regain control of her kingdom amidst threats from old and new alliances; a Princess strives to understand this new world and her role in it, and a young Prince finds himself torn between two families.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun had shifted high when the sound of hoofbeats rang out staccato against the harsh snow and ice that had covered the ground for weeks without reprieve. Guards and various staff scrambled to make way before the messengers arrived, readying the Royal family’s supper and armor and swords should it be riders from the northern holding or Forbidden Fortress. Emma waited in the void not occupied by the scurrying individuals that made up the majority of the castle’s population, simply staring out into the bleak emptiness that had become her life since the curse was lifted. Gone was the days of cheeseburgers at Granny’s and hanging on the weekends with Ruby; gone were all of her friends, now servants and the nameless, faceless mass her parents ruled over. 

The werewolf had gone off hunting on its own, broken from the small packs that littered the Enchanted Forest, and had yet to return to its Queen’s holding. The Princess had been informed that it was a regular occurrence, and perhaps the former waitress had merely opted to change alliances, as though she was not one of the Queen’s friends in the Storybrooke. Emma soon found that Queen’s and King’s did not have friends in this new land, rather they had subjects, and her once charming family ruled with an iron fist. The dungeons were filled with former citizens, lumberjacks, school teachers, bakers, and the occasional dwarf who dared to disagree with the reigning monarch’s decisions regarding the kingdom. 

All but one cell, empty now, which had contained the former Queen. Housed like an animal in rags and forced to sleep on hay deemed unfit for the hounds that roamed the castle walls, Regina had been forced to her knees before the regents on a daily basis before she had simply disappeared from the chains that bound her. Her magical strength had built up, Emma had often thought after the Queen’s disappearance. The humiliation and degradation had finally sunk in through her carefully veiled walls until it broke her and the magic had pooled from her like a tidal wave, allowing her escape. 

Back into the Enchanted Forest, the rumors foretold; back to the Winter Castle where faceless riders in black had amassed once more and rode in the Queen’s name. She had seen them, once, on the rare day she was allowed to venture past the castle walls, housed compactly in an elegant white carriage surrounded by the trademark white stallions of her parent’s kingdom. The team of riders had halted at the edge of the wood, tall astride their magnificent black beasts as they surveyed the royal procession from afar. The Captain of the Guard, known only by the purple sash across his broad chest, had nodded briefly in acknowledgement of the Princess before he ordered his riders to turn to the west and ride. It was the last ride she was allowed to take outside the kingdom’s boundaries when Henry told of their encounter to his grandmother. 

Emma walked carelessly, with shoulders hunched, to the throne room where the royalty would await their guests. Amidst the chaos of the room sat her son, proud and excited as ever, as he sat off to the side and below the King, a single reminder that the Prince had yet to attain any other worth than his bloodline. He would be shushed soon enough, the incessant babble the Charmings had indulged in Storybrooke broken with a single word, and ordered to be seen by their visitors but never heard. It was the same for the brash Princess, her own bloodline the only saving grace between herself and marriage to the first available prince. Here, she was as unobtainable and unwanted as a crow of the northern holding. The savior having become a burden on the White family tree due to her inexperience and lack of knowledge in the ways of the court. 

Snow White, her mother, admonished her utter lack of decorum with a stern look. With an extended finger, she ordered the young woman into her own seat, to the left of the Queen. Like her son, Emma was shushed accordingly, though no sound made it past her throat, having learned from instances in the past when her opinion was not needed nor required. Her unfavorable opinion of treatment of the prisoners, forced to their knees in front of the Royal family, being the worst offense of all. She, herself, had displayed disloyalty to the crown, or so said those nameless and faceless of the kingdom who demanded a new heir to the throne and her own abdication of the title. The former sheriff had failed to comply with the unwritten rules of the court by expressing her own displeasure in seeing the former mayor, the former Queen, on her knees for hours before Snow White ordered her step-mother back to the bowels of the dungeon for another night amongst the thieves, robbers, murderers, and hounds that resided there. “The squires of the Eastern Kingdom,” Snow said solemnly to answer the unasked question. “Fourteen riders and a carriage bearing the emblem of the East.”

The King’s hands tightened against the golden throne considerably, veins in his neck tensing at the proclamation. To the East was King George, a former father figure to the shepherd who later became prince. The shepherd who had slain a dragon, ran from marriage to a Princess, escaped the guillotine with the help of a Queen, and married the treasonous daughter of another King. For all his power, he still feared the retribution of the riders from the East, come to collect on an old alliance long since broken. 

Emma snorted lightly, wincing at the harsh echo of her grunt as it bounced against the stone walls that kept the castle chilled even in the summer months. 

Seven riders in the scarlet garb of their royal family entered the room, followed closely by the Eastern King and Captain of the Guard. “This must be the elegant Princess I’ve heard so much about,” the King spoke heavily as he turned on his heel to address the members of the family in turn. His grey eyes lingered on the golden haired savior for a moment longer than the others. “A true pleasure to meet you, your royal highness,” he mocked with a low bow. 

He reminded her of Rumplestiltskin in that moment, the man kept safely guarded in the cell designed to ward against even the most powerful magic in the realm. A threat in Storybrooke, the imp’s reign of terror had grown tenfold when he had been allowed to wreak havoc on the lands in exchange for his assistance in quarantining the Evil Queen. The mocking laughter, the exaggerated bows- all of the King’s mannerism dripped of the Dark One’s influence, or perhaps the gesture was merely made to make the recipient feel inferior. It worked. The savior had never felt more inferior than she did as she met his cold, dead, grey eyes in the harsh light of the waning afternoon. 

“And Your Majesties, may I congratulate you on your latest accomplishment,” George continued as he straightened to address them more fully. “Defeating the notorious Evil Queen only to lose her mysteriously- my, that is quite a feat, indeed. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors of black banners rising in the North once more.” 

Snow hissed in acknowledgement while James remained silent. The Northern holding had been unoccupied for quite some time, since the last time the Evil Queen had reigned from the Winter Castle before the curse was enacted. To hear of its inhabitation once more failed to disabuse the Queen’s notion that her daughter had merely seen a figment of her imagination in the black stallions who greeted her on the road. 

“Armies are amassing in the Queen’s name,” George uttered as the King and Queen shared a look between themselves. 

“She isn’t the Queen,” Snow shouted, breaking her own code of silence. Her step-mother had not carried the title of Queen within these walls since the failed execution; she had been returned to the Winter Castle devoid of title and honor associated with it. 

“Is she not, dear Snow? And who would have taken the title away from her?” George addressed the Queen fully, sarcasm dripping from every vowel he uttered in her direction. “Surely not the traitorous little Princess. It seems to me, my dear, that you are the one without title, and certainly without a rightful heir.” 

The Queen reared back in her seat, unsure of how to respond to the accusations flung her way. The kingdom had accepted her, after she and James regained control over the throne, had even fought with them during the wars against Regina. “My daughter, Emma, will one day ascend to the throne, and after her, Henry.” 

Dull grey eyes turned swiftly onto the Princess. “Is that so, Princess? Do you not think you should abdicate now rather than risk the penalty of war due to your incompetence?” He turned and gave a half-bow to the little Prince who watched the events with a hopeful eye. “And the little bastard, what right does he have to the throne?” 

“Hey!” Emma hollered as she rose from her seat amidst the disapproving glares from both mother and father. She had held her tongue long enough; the details of her mother’s involvement in the events that sparked Regina’s rage were well-known to her, at least the one side of it, and her own shortcomings were broadcasted each and every time the King and Queen held court, but she would not accept her son being referred to as a bastard. “Don’t ever call my son a bastard again.” 

“No,” George chuckled heartily. “Then tell me, dear, where is his father? Oh, yes, in the dungeons awaiting execution for his crimes.” He turned on his heel to address Henry again. “And what of your other mother, dear boy? What has become of the Queen?”

His silence foretold the knowledge he possessed of the woman he once called mother. Here, in this land, he had advocated with his grandmother and grandfather that she was evil and would remain so, even turned up his nose when she was brought before them and forced to her hands and knees. His book had told the truth; evil would be vanquished. 

“Silence? Is that what ten years of mothering gets? It’s no wonder I failed to share my own displeasure when my sons acted against my wishes. Riddance to the lot of them! Nothing but a sniveling bastard, aren’t you, Henry?” He stepped closer, mindful of the guards at the royal family’s feet. “Would you have cried at her execution? Let a tear fall as a dozen arrows were aimed at her heart, or would you remain as you are now, the insolent child of a loving mother?” 

Tears flowed freely as the words reached their intended target, and George stifled a smile. The boy wept anxiously, body rocking back and forth as he fought to console himself in the open embrace of his blonde mother while the King and Queen looked on disapprovingly. 

“What is your business here?” James asked. His blonde head rose defiantly in the face of his father figure; he might be the second choice of the man before him but he would never forget the lessons forced upon him. 

“A warning. Release the kingdom into the hands of its rightful owner or face the consequences of war.” The riders in scarlet moved closer to the king, closing ranks around him as he stepped forward and mocked a half-bow to the gold-covered thrones. “The Eastern kingdom will ride with the West should you fail to accept our conditions, as well as the riders from the Forbidden Fortress.” 

“And the North?” Snow inquired quietly. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and pictured herself before the curse broke, the times when she was merely a grade school teacher in charge of the school aged children in Storybrooke. “Will the North ride against us?” Could their armies stand another battle against Regina and her riders in black, if the rumors were true? The defeat of the Evil Queen had come at a price, one that could not be paid again, not even in the fairies were willing to come to their aid. Would her successor choose to align themselves against such odds?

“Send the crows,” George smirked as he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving behind the gasps from the Queen in his wake. 

When the chaos had separated itself from the innate calm that had always permeated the throne room and Henry’s cries turned muffled, Emma rose to her feet to confront her parents. “What the hell just happened here?” She demanded, anger evident in her voice as she struggled to contend with the vile words the King had spewed towards her son.

“He threatened us with war if we don’t turn over the kingdom,” Snow said bitterly, grounding out the words as though forced to chew on glass. “He wants us to step down and for you to abdicate your title.” 

“Turn over the kingdom? To who?” 

James cleared his throat, and for the first time in a very long time, turned to address Henry. “Stop crying,” he murmured in the boy’s direction. “Princes don’t cry.” 

The former sheriff growled at her father, incensed that he was more thoughtful of impressions to the court rather than his grandson’s feelings. The boy had been through hell and back since they found themselves in Fairy Tale Land; having to watch his adoptive mother brought before them in nothing more than rags and forced onto already bloodied knees, learning how to be a prince when others dogged him at every turn for the shortcomings of his mother and his association with the other. Those who had been friendly to him in Storybrooke had openly mocked him in the marketplace for his lack of understanding to the realness of fairy tales and the characters that made them. “They do when kings tell them that they’re bastards. Who does he want you to turn the kingdom over to exactly?” 

“Some might say Regina,” Snow murmured quietly, “and others would say Midas or George himself. Rightful ownership of the throne has been lost in time, Emma. There have been too many battles; too many victors who have claimed the throne to know for sure who was the rightful heir.” 

“And ‘send the crows,’” Emma inquired further. The notable exclusion of the riders from the North in George’s threat vibrant in her mind. From the maps in the war room and the study, she had gathered that the Forbidden Fortress belonged to Maleficent, the sorceress and dragon thought to be slain in Storybrooke, the East housed the kingdom of George and his riders in scarlet, and the West had withstood the reign of Midas for years. It was only the North that gave her pause, unwilling to utter the name of the Queen who had once resided there for fear that she might cease to exist even in the former sheriff’s mind. “What does that mean?”

“If the rumors are true and Regina has regained control over the Winter Castle, it means that she might be our last defense against the rise of the other kingdoms. Whoever controls the riders in black may not even respond to our call of distress, even if the crows arrived in hordes. There is no loyalty there, Emma, not to this kingdom or our rule. The kingdom remained loyal to Regina even after she was captured, and will remain loyal to her successor as well.” 

“And if this kingdom fell? What would happen then?” 

The bitter laugh that emitted from the Queen was nothing short of haunting, a precursor for the words about to tumble from her mouth. “We would be executed, as well as those who claimed loyalty to our house. The successor’s would eradicate our names from the history books until there was no record of the White rulers at all.” 

Emma crossed the stone floor and knelt in front of Henry, wrapping him in her strong arms as he continued to weep, at once terrified at the prospect of execution due to his family name and still fearful of the hateful words the king had spilled over his actions. “So send the crows!” She demanded. “Send an entire flock; send geese and swans and bluebirds. Send every bird you can think of. If it is Regina, then she won’t let anything happen to Henry. She’ll come to our aid if you ask her.” 

“And if it isn’t her? What then?” 

“Then we’ll be dead anyway, so it won’t matter who it is. But, if it is, she’ll do everything in her power to protect Henry.” Henry melted into her arms, bearing into the slight comfort offered in direct opposition to the horrific scenarios that remained jumbled in his mind. “The riders in black, they could have killed us but they didn’t. The Captain of the Guard saw who was in the carriage and he let us pass. If he’s under Regina’s rule, then that would explain why he let us go.” 

James snorted derisively. “He let you go because doing otherwise would have been an act of war. The riders would have been slaughtered on the spot had they made advances towards you or Henry, regardless of who they rode for.” 

“Send the crows.” 

“Assemble the war room,” Snow countered with a harsh glare in her daughter’s direction. If she failed as the Queen to provide protection for her people, her family then it would be her punishment to watch George and his forces take over the kingdom she had worked so hard to take back over, but she would be damned if she asked for help from the Winter Castle, no matter who reigned over the forested lands. What that woman had done to them here and later in Storybrooke was unforgivable, and if she lost her head because of her unwillingness to be betrayed by her former step-mother, then so be it. “I want to know exactly how many men we have at the ready and how many can be assembled within a fortnight,” she ordered, stalking out of the throne room. 

The Princess stared at the ground where her mother had rested her feet at the base of the throne. In her arms, Henry trembled as the tears continued to cascade down his cheeks, reminding her of how much a child he still was. No matter that in the past year he had taken off to Boston to find her, returned her to Storybrooke, defeated the Evil Queen’s curse, and been returned to the Enchanted Forest where he had to watch his mother brought up in chains on a daily basis. The final disgrace had been the threatening words from a hateful king. 

“I don’t want to die,” the little prince mumbled into his mother’s shoulder, snuffling against the unfamiliar feel of silk. He missed the distinct smell of her leather jacket, saturated in the faint presence of her perfume. “I don’t want to die, Emma.” 

She startled momentarily at the reversion to her name rather than ‘mom.’ She supposed that it was the stress, the telltale trauma of the past year that seemed to have finally caught up to him. “You aren’t going to, Henry. Hey, kid, I want you to look at me-” Emma waited until his brown eyes met hers. “I’m going to do whatever I have to do to make sure nothing bad happens to you, got it?” 

“Are you going to contact mom?” 

It had to be the stress talking, Emma thought, because the utterance for his mother was the first time he had mentioned Regina in regard that could be termed as affectionate. The old title he had brutally ripped away from the dark brunette was now restored, reminding her of what she needed to do and what she would do if it came down to it. “I’m going to do whatever I need to, kid, and that means I will get on my hands and knees to beg for her forgiveness if it comes down to it. But, first, we need to see if she’s even at the Winter Castle. It might not be her, Henry. Twenty-eight years is a long time to be away, and then the time she was in the-”

Henry sniffled and blinked dark eyes at her. “In the dungeon,” he finished for her. The boy took a deep breath and exhaled harshly against the echoing stone walls around them. “She hates me,” he finally concluded. 

“No, no Henry,” Emma replied earnestly, forcing him back into her arms. The contact had always felt almost foreign to her in Storybrooke, like something that was reserved for other people; people who hadn’t abandoned their children to a social worker and the foster system at birth. “Regina, she...she doesn’t hate you; she loves you. She loved you so much that she tried to drive me out of Storybrooke; she loves you, buddy.” 

“I laughed,” he admitted softly, head drooping to his chest. “When the guards shoved her down and she looked at me, I laughed at her. I- I thought she was evil. I didn’t see that she was still my mom.” 

There was nothing she could say to assuage his guilt, certainly not her old standby of, ‘oh, kid’ that would do nothing but diminish the seriousness of their conversation to a superficial level. The little Prince had been so distracted by his childlike innocence and vague sense of right and wrong based on the concepts of predominant concepts of good and evil depicted in fairy tale books. The morals portrayed were set in stone; evil was evil and good was good, with no room for redemption or failure of either side. Emma trained her gaze on the guards that swarmed through the room, set on a mission by the Queen to determine the strength of their forces. The guards largely ignored the Princess and Prince on the cold stone floor, much like they did every day. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Granny conversing with the Captain of the Guard, motioning erratically to the open windows overlooking the lush green valleys below the castle walls. “We’re going to make this right, Henry. I promise.” 

She rose, silently cursing the flowing silk of the dress she had been all but forced into. Her jeans would have been welcomed, leather jacket, too, if only to make her feel more like the woman she was in the other world. Emma glared down at the light blue chiffon and willed herself into her other clothes. Nothing happened. With a grunt, she tugged Henry up by his hand and forced him out of the throne room, fully intending on ridding them of the clothes of this world. They didn’t belong here, not like this. The Princess who had been abandoned on the side of the road by her self-serving True Love- pleading parents who didn’t bother to think further than their own consideration, and the little boy born to a woman in handcuffs in a lonely room outside of Phoenix, Arizona. 

“Where are we going? To Mom’s castle?” 

Emma snorted lightly and continued to tug him down the maze of hallways to her room. Her clothes were stored in there, hidden in the shadows from Snow’s pesky servants determined to eradicate any sign of the other world from the Enchanted Forest. If she were going to be doomed to death, then she was going out in a red leather jacket, white tank, and tight jeans. And Henry, the kid was going to be hand delivered to Regina if her very last breath depended on it looking like he did in Storybrooke, not this faux prince in lambskin and leather. “Change first, then to find out what’s happening in that war room.” 

Henry nodded and followed along without another word. He, too, was curious as to what his grandmother would order in preparation to retaliate to George’s threats. Certainly, this was not at all like what he imagined life would be like after the curse broke. Life here was...cruel. The loss of his friends had taught him that and the loss of his mother even more so. Ruby was missing in action, somewhere in the Enchanted Forest running loose or perhaps a victim of the poachers who scoured the lands looking for pelts to sell to the royals at the marketplace; Belle had disappeared from her cottage shortly after his mother’s escape from the dungeon, and Rumplestiltskin had finally allowed himself to be imprisoned again to ensure Belle’s continued safety. 

Instead of her red leather, she changed into a black leather riding coat with tan breeches. Not the wardrobe of a princess, but suitable enough to appease her own appetites without looking like a common mongrel who roamed the marketplace at night (according to Snow). For Henry, she directed him to similar attire, making a mental note to burn the burgundy jacket that was identical to her father’s in every little detail down to the silver buttons. When the boy emerged from the changing area, she noted that he looked less like a put-upon Prince and more like the happy-go-lucky kid from Storybrooke. Emma nodded and pointed the way to the makeshift war room, which may or may not have been the secondary dining area. 

There were far too many rooms in the castle, the blonde former sheriff concluded as she scowled at an errant bluebird who tracked her progress down the long hallway. The waning light of early evening cut through the open windows, casting strange shadows against the stone walls. For a moment, she looked like a giant and in the next, she resembled the relatively useless dwarves who pledged unerring loyalty to the White Queen. She entered the converted room with a suitable scowl, focusing intently on what appeared to be a giant chess set spread over a map of the Enchanted Forest on the long table. She noted the figurines that depicted various figures most notable in this world, the ones who held magical power or influence enough to make them useful, were strategically placed in the kingdoms. 

“Emma, you need to go back to your room,” James said in a low voice, pointing the way back out of the room. 

“No,” she responded flatly and directed Henry to an empty place near the map. “We have just as much right as you to be here. If it’s our heads, then it’s our plan.” The Princess looked to Granny for support but found only her turned head as she consulted with a dwarf about a certain section of the map- a weak spot, most likely. Emma consulted the map with a more critical eye and found several weak points in their defenses. As she glared at her father with unfailing confidence in her decision, she found herself wondering how they managed to keep the kingdom running before Storybrooke with the threats of Regina’s army. 

The King nodded reluctantly and declared, “Fine, you can stay,” with an even more reluctant tongue. He turned back to Granny and gestured to the map. “What can you see?” 

The grey-haired woman stabbed at several accessible areas that would prove problematic for the monarch should their enemies learn of the weaknesses. One such was at the northern boundary, an old bunker that had not survived the last war with the Evil Queen. The holding was crumbled, Granny declared, a piece of property that had been allowed to decay when it should have been repaired immediately. She then noted several other areas, villages, whose allegiance was not exclusively tied to White Kingdom but rather split between two rulers. 

As Granny rambled on, Emma found herself at the edge of the table, leaning over to inspect several areas that had not been noted in Granny’s explanation of their defenses. The packs of wolves that roamed the forest could prove to be problematic since the majority appeared to only serve themselves, and then there was the land that Rumplestiltskin had occupied. Any loyalty there would not be to any monarch, but to whoever held the most power and authority. 

“Are you ready to send for Regina’s help yet?” Emma inquired to the group, ignoring the glares from the dwarves. She indicated to the map with her index finger, brushing against the problem areas Granny had identified and included a couple of her own. “There are too many soldiers from the other kingdoms, even at in the best possible scenarios, and too many weak spots to cover with the men available from here. If there is any hope of keeping your precious kingdom, it’s Regina. Tell her that Henry’s life is in danger and she’ll be here in the morning with an army-”

Snow slammed her hand against the table, dislodging several key pieces from their positions on the map. “No,” she murmured softly into the silence that engulfed the room. “I will never place my life in that...that woman’s hand again. She won’t come, Emma; do you not understand that? She will wait on the sidelines until the kingdom falls and George declares himself victor. When the royal family is nothing but heads on spikes adorning the front wall then she will swoop in and reclaim the throne, but she will never ride to our aid.” 

“Give her a chance,” Emma pleaded, wrapping a protective hand over Henry’s shoulders. Her son didn’t deserve this, not to be held in the middle of an age old feud like a pawn. “She has something riding on this, too. She will come for Henry-”

“And to watch the rest of us burn,” Snow finished in a small voice. “Regina has already betrayed this family once when offered a second chance. After everything, she wouldn’t risk coming to our aid now. I think we can all assume that the northern forces will ride with George, which means we will need protection along that corridor as well as the others.” She dropped another piece on the map, effectively boxing in the Summer Palace. “Is there any chance that the wolves will side with us?” 

Granny shook her head slowly and nodded to the various pieces depicting the caves where the packs housed themselves. Among them was the pack her own daughter had led before her death, killed by her granddaughter to save the White Queen. The pack would likely side with George, if asked. “Not enough to make a difference,” she said thickly. “Individual wolves, those not associated with any of the known packs, might feel enough loyalty to the lands to want to preserve them from a new monarch, but the packs are already aligned elsewhere or only concerned with their own wellbeing. They’ll stay out of the way and wait for the end of the war before declaring themselves an ally to the victor.” 

“We’re screwed then,” Emma interjected, ignoring the callous looks from those around her regarding her language. She had not been born royal and after twenty-eight years, it was a fool’s errand to expect her to change now. “Everyone who could’ve been an ally has already chosen to place their bets on better odds, and you won’t send up a damn flock of pigeons to contact the one person who could save our asses because of your pride.” 

“Crows,” one of the dwarves corrected. “The crows are the sign of distress here, Princess. You would do well to remember that.” 

An eyebrow arched in response but the blonde held her tongue. No matter the bird, she was fairly sure Regina would at least materialize long enough to whisk Henry away from danger. Instead, she turned to the open window and surveyed the land. From the window, she could see out to the stables and pastures below; foals frolicked through the green grass while the white stallions grazed nearby. A single dark bay stallion rested on the very edge of the pasture, a rider atop the broad-backed beast. If they were damned, then her son did not need to hear the particulars of their impending doom. “I’m taking Henry out to the pastures,” she said quietly, not quite meeting her mother’s eyes as she directed the boy out of the room, hand on his shoulder. 

Once they were outside the door, Henry turned his head upwards to focus on his blonde mother. “What happened?” He asked innocently.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Emma replied harshly, stomping through the halls until her footsteps echoed. She scowled at portraits of the fallen kings and queens that adorned the wall, adding an extra swivel to her hips when they passed by her grandfather’s portrait with her grandmother. The Evil Queen had been eradicated from the walls long ago but that failed to dispel her ire over the events in the war room. Snow would let the kingdom fall rather than ask for help from the one who had betrayed her long ago, even at the expense of her daughter and grandson’s lives. “Keep walking, kid. I think I saw something out in the field.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will be SwanQueen eventually. I consider these few chapters the setup phase but, I promise, we will get to the SwanQueen in good time. Thank you to everyone who read. I hope you continue to enjoy this little story.

She ran. Through the clicks of pain that radiated up her paws from the delicate shards of ice that chipped away at the black pads, she ran. To and fro through the mass of trees that confounded her path on the regular, the sleek wolf dashed through the forest until she breached the line of trees that separated it from the village below. She slid to a stop there, at the top of the cliff overlooking the sizable village with its bustling marketplace. 

Execution day, by the looks of things, she concluded. Stepping delicately in her new form, clad in simple black riding leathers and red overcoat, she hiked to the base of the cliff and stepped over the town’s border. The intensity of the day hit her like a tidal wave upon the shore, scaling past her carefully concocted walls until she was forced to move with the crowd; the epicenter of chaos being the town square or, more specifically, the gallows erected in the center of the marketplace. 

“Busy day,” came a voice from her side. A young man tipped his hat and grinned cheekily at the young woman, bidding her welcome into his stand. When she strode forward, he quickly presented her with the best of his herd, a petite but hardy brown and white calf. “He’s good stock,” the young man declared lowly. “Best you’ll find here, at least, and I know the Queen is rather particular about her breeding stock.” 

The long-haired brunette turned her attention from the calf snuffling her fingertips to the dark-haired stable boy. “How did you-” 

He nodded to the gold ring that encircled a finger on her right hand. “Recognized the more subtle signs, milady. No harm in that, yes?” He frowned and glanced down at her boots before scouring back up to the top of her head. “You’re her wolf,” he finally declared in the same low, whispered tone. 

She merely nodded in response, unable to think a quick lie to cover her alliance. 

“No shame in that.” The stable boy turned his attention back to the calf. “Could have him tethered and delivered by the morning,” he mumbled as he adjusted the rigging holding the calf to the front of his stand. No use in the thing gnawing his way out of the ropes that held his head against the wooden frame of the stall, he decided as he awaited the wolf’s decision. 

“Have him delivered to the fields behind the castle,” she responded after a long beat. Reaching into the small pouch at her waist, she pulled out enough gold coins to more than pay for the calf, and turned back to the festivities down the way. “What can you tell me about that?” She waved to the gallows and the men guarding the structure. The executioner raised his gloved hand and motioned for the false floor to drop for an empty rope. 

The crowd gathered around the structure cheered as the wooden partition fell away with a loud thunk. 

“Suppose you tell me your name first and then I’ll tell you about today’s bloodbath.” 

The wolf considered the calf wrangler with a critical eye, attempting to determine the motives behind his kindness. Here, in this town, alliances were not as well defined as others not situated on a border between kingdoms. In her human form, she lacked the stamina to run away from danger without alerting the entire town to the presence of a shifter and eliciting their predictable response of pitchforks and torches. “Ruby,” she uttered quietly, choosing the name from the other land in the hopes that old associations would not be made. 

“Seven executions today,” the stable boy said, nodding to the gallows where the town’s population seemed to have gathered to watch. He averted his gaze to the men, woman, and children shackled to the side of the towering structure- those destined to die- before turning his attention back to the long-haired young woman in the leathers of royalty. “Four thieves and two murderers.” 

“And the seventh?” 

“Traitor to the crown,” he supplied. 

In this small town outside of the hold of any particular kingdom? Ruby would have thought that the kingdom betrayed would have hauled the betrayer to the dungeons and made a very visible statement of their power in the form of a publicized execution. But to leave the treasonous individual in the hands of a small town executioner? Puzzling. “To which crown,” she inquired, motioning to the condemned. 

The stable boy frowned and shut down his stall, hustling his prize calves into the pens along the backside of the wooden frame. He tugged down the sheet that would serve to block them from view and, hopefully, deter thieves who might use the distraction of the executions to improve the size of their loot. “That would be the question, Miss Ruby. To which I have an answer for you: The White Kingdom. They say that he was one of the men was complicit in the escape of the Evil Queen from the dungeons. It’s been rumored that the White Queen bowed to his last request for his execution to occur in his birthplace, though she requires proof of his death at day’s last light.” 

“Could be foolish to allow him to return here,” Ruby murmured as she followed the stable boy to the town’s center, mere feet from those condemned to die. “This town doesn’t hold allegiance to one kingdom or another.” 

“Could be spies afoot,” he agreed with a wink and nodded to the gold ring adorning her finger. “Perhaps a lovely lady come to stop the execution on orders from her Queen, or perhaps there are black riders waiting in the forest for the right time to strike.” 

“Perhaps it’s just the foolish notion of a stable boy to think that others would sacrifice their lives for a traitor.”

“Marcus,” the dark-haired man offered with a slight bow. “You’ve called me the stable boy but failed to ask for my name. I’m not a heathen, you know, and I do prefer my name rather than an inefficient title based on my work. I do not prefer shepherd or cow boy, either, for future reference, Wolf.”

Ruby faltered, twisting in her step until she fell against his broad chest. Glancing up at his deep brown eyes, she was transported to another life, one before she knew about the monster than resided within her. She had been just a girl in love; just a girl who had slaughtered her beau and her own mother because of the demon that rested in her belly. “And I do not prefer the term ‘Wolf,’ Marcus. Don’t use it, especially not around these people.” 

Torches and pitchforks aside, the residents of this town she recognized as being many of the same who had chased her out of the Summer Castle’s land with threats of being turned into a pelt to sell to the royals who frequented their markets. Her long fingers stroked the sides of the cool metal of her ring, reassuring herself that her life was no longer in danger provided she kept to her end of the treatise. Wolf hunting was banned in the northern holding, a fact that she was more aware of now that she was out of its boundaries and back into those that failed to recognize such a law. 

“You aren’t afraid of me, of what I can do.” 

Marcus shook his head, turned on his heel, and focused on the men and woman shackled to the platform ahead. He recognized one or two as a thief who tried to steal away with one of his calves before the hounds chased them off the property empty-handed. Justice would be served after all, but there were others that he failed to recognize from the town at all. Which only served to heighten his awareness that a war was brewing somewhere near. A town like this, alliance-free and not easily defended by pitchforks against swords and trained steeds, would fall first in a blaze of light. Men, women, and children alike would be burned should they be caught in the cross hairs of an army’s movements across the land. “No, I fear things much worse than a wolf who cannot control her kills.” 

He turned to her and stilled, bracing his hands on her shoulders as his eyes bored into hers. “I fear the kings who forget they are mere mortals; I fear the war horses who can be controlled by the merest word; I fear the magic that will splatter across the lands and engulf men’s hearts without the familiar touch of another man’s hand; I fear for the children who will be mercilessly slaughtered in the name of kings and queens they have never heard of. But, most of all, I fear that I, too, will be lost amongst the men who could have made a difference in the battle but chose to hide due to cowardice.” 

“I have many things to fear, my wolf, but you are not one of them.” Marcus shuddered at his admission and directed her startled gaze back to the fearful men and women about to die for their crimes. “I fear that there is no hope for any of us. All of us are bound to die sometime, but I don’t want to go without leaving my mark behind. That, Ruby, is why I am not afraid of you or your pledged allegiance.” 

“You’ll find that most will avoid you here, refuse to sell you their goods because of what you are, but I sought you out. I offered you the best of my stock in the hopes that I would appeal to your better side,” he admitted with a small frown. He raked his hands over his face, admonishing the plan gone astray. In a thick, low voice, he stated, “I need you to bring me to her.” 

“Why?” 

Marcus leaned back and studied the wolf. She was rather beautiful with intriguingly soft features and silky brown hair. He idly wondered if her wolf was as appealing as the human side, but determined those thoughts were best done when he was not pleading for the longevity of his life, no matter how few hours her Queen could promise him. “Because I’ve heard the rumors. I might be a coward but I’m not a foolish one. Alliances are being made between the East and West, and I’ve heard that the riders from the Forbidden Fortress will follow suit in order to overthrow the White house. Snow White and her King have lost too many alliances since their return, and I fear that the only recourse I can take now is to pledge unyielding allegiance to the one who has yet to claim a side.” 

Ruby pondered his statement for a moment, cocking her head to find the truth of what he said in his body. His shoulders were pushed back to their limits, proud in his bearing as he awaited her decision, and his eyes remained as soft as when he tipped his hat to her in greeting and displayed his calf like a prize to be won. “She may refuse your offer,” she said lowly, evading the gaze of the commoners who stepped around the pair in their urgency to reach the base of the platform before the executions began. For a people transported to a land where civility was practiced and death condemned until the very last, they had contorted themselves back into the faceless mass of exuberance for the macabre side of their old lives. 

“A chance I am willing to take. Now, hush, it’s about to begin.” 

The former waitress focused on the parishioner who stepped forward beside the masked executioner. He offered a softly-spoken prayer to the souls of the wicked before stepping to the side to let the law take full payment for crimes done. The balding man turned a teary eye on the youngest member of the shackled bunch, shook his head, and placed his hand on the teenager’s head. 

“I call for leniency,” he shouted, addressing the mob that struggled at the base of the platform to keep upright against the huddle mass of bodies. “This boy is a young child, an innocent in the life thrust upon him. Should we condemn him to die by the hangman’s noose for trying to provide for his starving family? Should we condemn his mother to watch her only son die? Again, I call for leniency!” 

A hush fell over the crowd for the briefest of moments before a voice rang out from the back of the group. The tall, lanky man pushed his way forward, stumbling over the feet of those not willing to give up their places and cried out, “I offer my life in exchange for his!” 

The parishioner still the boy’s protests with a raised hand and motioned to the guards to release him from his shackles. “You would readily accept a sentence of death in exchange for this child’s life?” He studied the blonde-haired man and the traits so familiar to the now-free young boy. A father offering life to his son, most likely. 

The tall man nodded feverishly and lumbered past the guards who watched over the stairs of the platform. He stood in front of his son, bent down, and kissed the boy’s head before he directed the terrified child to the arms of his mother. He bowed his head before the executioner and moved to take his place beneath the noose. A hand on his arm stopped his path and the parishioner nodded to the crowd who had descended into silence. The thief they condemned to die, not the innocent man who offered his life in exchange for a guilty party. 

Another man, pudgy as the pigs he tended, stepped forward. “I grant him pardon for his son’s misdeeds,” the butcher hollered above the heads of the crowd that blocked his path. “No need to sacrifice an innocent man for half a hock stolen from my sheds.” 

Ruby watched as the blonde man was returned to his family, engulfed in the arms of his son and wife. The next five executions were enacted without protest, even by the parishioner who wept silently at the edge of the stage, until the last, the traitor to the crown, was brought before the executioner. Forced to his knees, he was prepared as a wooden block was shoved under his chin to cradle his head. “I thought-”

Marcus shook his head and in a grave tone replied, “Proof of the death must be returned to the Queen. He will be beheaded for his crime, not hanged like the others.” He turned his gaze back on the dark-haired man as the parishioner prayed over his soul. “His payment for conspiring to aid the Evil Queen in her escape will not be swift like the others. His deeds require pain, and the executioner will see to it that the orders from the monarch are carried out.” 

There were no cries for leniency from the bald man as he took up his position on the edge of the stage, back turned to avoid witnessing the bloodshed about to occur. His lips moved in silent prayer as he confided in the gods above to save the soul of the man he had baptized at birth. 

Ruby moved to follow the parishioner’s chosen position, away from the stage, but Marcus intercepted her movement and directed her attention back to the platform. “Watch him,” he urged. “Say a silent prayer, but watch him. He’s going to his death with a smile on his face in the name of his Queen; listen as he calls out to her in allegiance. His duties are done.” 

She listened to the final cries of the man as he called out his final words. A sickening thud followed the man’s voice as it continued to echo through the town’s center, and she forced her eyes back to the stage a moment later. The guards had already thrown a blanket over the body, preventing onlookers from decimating the corpse until it could be removed and transported to the burial place on the outskirts of town. 

“Why would you make me watch that? What good did that do?” 

Marcus straightened and directed her with firm pressure to the base of her spine in the direction of the forest. He forced her to take long strides across the dirt of the marketplace until they reached the path she had followed in her other form. “You’ll take me to her now,” he demanded quietly, eyes trained on the path. “You’ll take me to her because I just watched my father die in the service of his Queen.” 

The wolf gasped and tugged her companion to a full stop in the middle of the trail. “Retribution. Is that what you want? You know that I can’t and won’t take you to her to enact-”

“I’ve already told her that I want to join her service,” Marcus explained with dull eyes as he focused on the town left behind. His animals would be taken back to his keep, guarded by a younger brother until he was forced to escape their land when the war began. The brown and white calf, marked with a black x on his rump, would be delivered, likely not as quickly as he originally offered but soon enough to the Queen’s fields; an offering of sorts after he returned the wolf’s coins when she delivered him to the person he sought. “There’s nothing here for me now, and I refuse to serve a Queen who ordered my father’s death, no matter the politics behind it. He took pity on a woman who was broken to the point of begging for death. He broke protocol and helped to attend to her wounds when she was brought back to her cell, fed her when no other food or water was offered. In exchange, she promised my family protection; my brothers were offered lands in the north should this village fall and my youngest brother was taken to the north to attend the schools there, to become a scholar instead of a shepherd boy.”

He strode forward, encouraging his companion to continue if she wished to hear the rest of his tale. “The Evil Queen has done many wicked deeds, both here and in the other land, but what she offered to me was enough to make me desire a place in her army. Even if I’m placed in the rear guard, shadowed only by cattle and goats, I will have repaid my debt with the Queen.”

“Your father just-”

“Yes, I am well aware that he’s dead. I watched him until the very end like a good son should do, which is why you need to take me to the Queen. I know that you’ve been in contact with her and I know that you’ve sought her out yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be wearing that shiny bauble on your fingers and you’d be dressed in rags still hiding out from those who want to turn your kind into pelts that litter the royals’ floors.” Marcus stopped at a fork in the road and motioned to either side. “Which way, wolf?” 

Ruby scowled at the term but indicated to the left. She trudged behind him with heavy footfalls, understanding what it was like to watch a parent die, no matter how close the relationship was or the circumstances surrounding the incident. The sun began to set over them, drawing their shadows along the dirt path, a gross dichotomy of the images they projected on the world. “Told you not to call me that.” 

“No,” Marcus countered. “You told me not to call you that in front of the townspeople. Now that we aren’t in town, I can call you whatever I’d like, but since you are delivering me to the Queen, I’ll stop.” He paused and turned to the brunette by his side. Extending his arm for her use on the rough back road, he tipped his head down in acknowledgment. “I beg your forgiveness, Ruby. That was careless of me to use a derogatory term when you’ve nothing but considerate to my own requests.” 

“You just watched your father die. If that had been Granny or-” Ruby halted the progress of her tongue, falling into silence beside her companion as she gripped his arm. Silently, she calculated how long it would take to navigate the dirt trails that spiraled through the Enchanted Forest without the benefit of being in her other form. “At the next fork, stay to the right and try not to resist the guards,” she murmured quietly. 

“The guards?” He peered through the trees, searching for the elusive black riders who were no doubt tracking their progress along the road. Brown eyes pierced through the darkness descending over the forest. 

“She’s waiting for me to return. There will be guards hidden in the forest and more surrounding the carriage. If you have any hope in offering her your allegiance, you’ll keep your mouth closed if you don’t want your throat slit.” 

“Is that what you did? When you ran north to escape becoming a rug?” 

Ruby smirked and continued down the path, dragging her companion behind her as they trudged through the mud and muck that littered the road. She would have preferred to be in wolf form for this travel, not dirtying her boots and leathers, but current company prevented the change. “I ran to the only person I thought would understand. She was almost pleasant in Storybrooke, occasionally, and I knew that she had put anti-wolf killing laws in place before the curse. I only hoped that the law extended to werewolves. I made it to the gates of the palace before the guards caught up to me and hauled me off in shackles to the throne room.” Suddenly, she forced her feet to a full halt and motioned up the road where the familiar black and white carriage waited by the side of the road. “Get on your knees and raise your hands in the air,” she ordered. 

Marcus watched as the wolf stepped forward and closed the distance between herself and the carriage. It took less time than he thought it might before the guards swooped down on him, trapping his hands behind his back with rope bindings. 

“I thought I made myself clear about strays, Ms. Lucas,” came a familiar voice from inside the carriage. The Queen propped the door open further and beckoned the guards forward with their prisoner. In full regalia of time gone by, Regina swept forward and braced her hand against the carriage as she observed the behavior between the former waitress and the man she appropriated from the small village. “At least this one appears cleaner than the last, but I still fail to understand why you would risk his life.” 

“I come to offer service to my Queen,” Marcus hollered, ignoring the sharp sting of pain that fluttered down his spine as one of the guards issued punishment for speaking without being addressed. 

“Cleaner but with a looser tongue than the last. I implore you, Ruby, please keep your strays in the stable where they belong. I’m not sure I can take many more of them.” Regina paused and adjusted the royal blue riding habit she wore in lieu of the more practical business suits she had favored in Storybrooke. “The last one insisted on cleaning the castle and I have yet to be able to convince her that singing is not an acceptable substitution for the technology left in the other world.” She stepped forward and placed two fingers under Marcus’ chin, raising his eyes to meet hers. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.” 

Marcus met her expressive brown eyes with his own, squinting against the horizon that framed behind her. To his left and right, guards waited, masked in their signature black riding armor, for the signal to end the shepherd’s life. 

“Plead, stable boy, you won’t get another chance.”

“I want to serve,” he whispered loud enough only for the Queen to hear. When he had her full attention, he leaned forward, ignoring the harsh bite of the ropes that bound his hands behind his back. Pain would retreat in time, the burns from the rope that cut deeply into his wrists would disappear in time, but death was permanent, he reasoned, and his life depended on the reasons he felt secure in when he consulted the Queen’s wolf about his intentions. “Like my father did before me.” 

Regina reared back and studied the stable boy. His clothes were impeccable for one who spent his time amongst the farm animals, dirt, and hay, but there was a sharp quality to his voice that suggested what lay beneath the working leathers could be useful should there come a need for a physical skirmish. More importantly, there was something faintly familiar hidden in his kind eyes. “Just another boy looking to play hero in a war he doesn’t understand,” she spat, forcing his head back down in a mock bow. On her heel, she turned to address Ruby, the wayward wolf who had come to her and begged for sanctuary. “I don’t need anymore heroes, dear. Keep them in the stable, if you must, but don’t bring anymore to me.” 

“Regina, he’s-” 

“Fodder for the battleground,” the Queen interrupted. “Do you recall what I risked by bringing you into my home, my kingdom? The risk I took when I offered sanctuary to the wolf friend of the White Queen. Tell me, Ruby, why did you not run to Snow White to plead for your life? I hear that your own grandmother is my step-daughter’s war consultant, so why did you feel it necessary to involve me in your affairs? And, why do you continue to do it now?” 

Ruby held her ground, dug her heels into the mixture of dirt and snow to prove herself, and focused on the former mayor. “I understand the risks you took when you took me under your wing, but what I’m asking for now...what Marcus is asking for is different. He wants the chance to fight for you, to make a difference in the outcome of the war if at all possible, secure a debt. Like me, there weren’t any other options. You and I know that I never would have made it through Snow’s blockades before I was skinned alive by one of the poachers. I would have been laid on her throne room floor without their knowledge, but, you, you’ve offered sanctuary to wolves in the past.” She stepped forward and dropped her hand to the Queen’s shoulder, noting the soft tremble that rattled through her otherwise regal bearing. “I’m asking for you to take a chance on him like you took on me. I’ll accept responsibility for his actions if it comes to it.” 

“You asked me to plead for my life,” Marcus said with a strong voice. “But I won’t plead for my life, rather I’ll plead for a chance to make things right. My father offered you assistance in the dungeons of the White Kingdom. In return, you offered my family sanctuary should war drive us from our lands and to my brother, you offered an education to rival that of a noble. For that, I offer my life and faithful service in your name. There’s nothing more I can offer.” 

“Your father was a good man, a kind man who deserved more than he was given. He offered me assistance when his better instincts should have prevented him from doing so. I presume that the town will give him a pauper’s burial in the morning?” 

Marcus nodded softly against the new pressure that lingered over his lower jaw as the Queen wiped away the tear he had allowed to escape. Death was a permanent state, not only for the wicked but also for the good. For all the riches given in payment for his father’s assistance, the cost of a proper burial was far too high for a soldier’s family to pay. The calves sold at the market would only provide enough supplies for the winter months, not the extra expense associated with death. 

“I’ll send enough to cover a proper burial in the morning,” Regina assured and nodded to the Captain of her Guard, a silent order to release the prisoner from his bindings. “In the mean time, you will be Ms. Lucas’ responsibility as she has seen to it to fill the empty rooms of my home with her chosen strays.”


	3. Chapter 3

Emma approached the horse and rider slowly, like one would a Kodiak bear in the Alaskan wilderness, and studied the team carefully as her footfalls brought her closer. The last thing she wanted to do was startle either of them and create a disturbance that would bring her parent’s attention to her business in the field. But, in the closing darkness of evening, she failed to note the nervous twitch of the stallion’s muzzle or the harsh scowl that dropped over the young rider’s face as she made her way across the shards of ice and patches of grass that littered the ground.

The stallion shuffled across the grass, startling at the sound of ice crackling under its hooves. Sitting tall, the rider remained calm, in control, as his eyes remained fully on the Princess. Dressed in the finest fabrics trade could produce, she was less intimidating now than he would have thought after hearing the rumors of the savior dressed in red leather. “Welcome, Princess,” he murmured softly, as though speaking more to his mount than the blonde woman stopped mere feet from him. He watched her careful gaze as she considered the horse, registering his every movement from the barest flick of an ear to the warning of a hoof striking out against the solid ground. “Without provocation, he won’t launch an attack, your highness.” 

“You’re trespassing,” she replied in turn. Emma lifted her eyes to address the small rider, judging him to be approximately Henry’s age, maybe a year or two older. 

“A small crime.”

A blonde eyebrow quirked in response before she ushered the trailing Henry to play amongst the charcoal grey colts in the adjoining field. The boy followed her instructions without protest, more than happy to play with the potential war horses for the moment if it meant that he was exempt from whatever harsh realities this world presented him with, if only for the briefest amount of time. Emma turned her attention back to the rider. “You could be executed for it,” she taunted lightly, recalling the various crimes that would lead to death in this land. Without a proper trial, without adequate counsel, without the chance to plead for forgiveness- this world thrived on retribution and the promise of quick punishment. 

“A small crime,” he repeated and shifted to display the emblem on his tunic, previously hidden by the stays of his leather overcoat. “I believe I am more likely to be executed for being in service to my Queen rather than stumbling across the White Queen’s land, yes?” The boy chuckled heartily, sounding more like the young Prince than a hardened soldier. 

“You know Regina?” Emma inquired, leaning forward to hear his confirmation or denial. She cast a glance to the field adjoining and spotted Henry easily. He played contentedly with the weanlings, bounding to and fro as the colts thrust their hooves in the air and cantered circles around him. He was safe, she reassured herself. “Regina Mills, former mayor of Storybrooke and former Evil Queen?”

“I suppose you could say that I know the Evil Queen well enough,” he confirmed with a slight scowl over the last part. “She oversaw many of my studies. Though, I must confess that I’ve never witness the Evil part of her moniker. I was too young when she ruled over these lands before, and I have never witnessed her being anything but kind, if not strict about my lessons, in my presence.” 

The blonde woman reared back on her heels, observing the boy with a critical eye. Her superpower had failed her numerous times in recent memory but it was not pinging on any direct lies now. It could be semantics, she reminded herself, well aware that Regina herself had manipulated the truth with selective word choice to avoid arousing the sheriff’s suspicions to her motives. “Regina’s alive and not some figment of your imagination or something?” 

He chuckled boldly and addressed the princess more fully. She was skeptical, more so than any others he had been sent to deliver messages to. “My Queen is very much alive and in the flesh,” he responded quietly as not to arouse the passing guards who frequented the fields in anticipation of attack from the neighboring lands. Spies had frequented the lands in the last war, or so he had been told, and their lives had been ended swiftly on both sides, possibly the greatest source of casualties in the entirety of the battle. Encroaching on this land, so close to the castle, was a risk, but to speak directly with the Princess, an outright statement of war should he be caught. 

“I want to...I need to see her. Can you do that? Can you take me to her?” 

“Deliver the daughter of those who want her head on a spike? No, Princess, I would never take that risk; however, I could offer you advice.” 

Emma stepped closer to the dark bay stallion, noting he did not possess the same elegant features of the stallions she had seen during her brief journey through the forest. Instead, he was lanky, rangy and with a slight roman nose that served to detract from the delicate features of his muzzle. He snuffled eagerly at her offered hand, not at all like the ill-tempered war horses she had met when she toured the stables with Henry. “What would that advise be, then?” 

“Choose a side now and choose wisely,” the dark-haired boy offered softly and with a kind eye. He glanced down and patted the horse’s neck before turning his attention back to the blonde woman. “There will come a time when the Queen will request your presence. Then, and only then, will she offer you instructions on how to contact her should you need assistance. For now, I offer you a gift- this stallion is quite adept at navigating through the forest. He will show you what you seek should you ask him correctly.” He slid from the saddle with remarkable grace, bowed, and presented her with the reins. 

“A horse? That’s all I get?” Emma scowled but accepted the reins and felt the heavy weight of the leather in her hands. “You show up and tell me that you work for Regina, but you won’t give me any information about her and then as a consolation prize, I get a pony?” If she were Henry’s age, she would have been delighted to receive a pretty pony as a present, but now it was plain infuriating that her only consideration towards protecting her son remained lost in the riddles put forth by a boy educated in the halls of the Queen’s castle. 

“If you wish to reject the gift-”

“No, he’s mine,” Emma interrupted and tangled her fingers into the stallion’s thick black mane. She chuckled lightly when he bumped her with his muzzle and snorted. As a child in the foster system, she had never had much interaction with farm animals past the one time her family had taken her to the local petting zoo and she’d been knocked over by a rogue goat, and as an adult in Fairy Tale Land, there had been very little need to interact with the horses that pulled the carriage as she had only been allowed to escape the castle walls once before being shuttered back inside where it was deemed safe enough for the princess to exist. “You gave him to me.” 

The boy nodded and strode a few steps from her, adjusting his coat to cover the emblem on the tunic beneath. “A gift from the Queen,” he proclaimed as he turned back to her. After a moment, he expounded, “The last living descendant of Rocinante, the Queen’s favored mount.” 

Not just a pony, then, Emma thought as she stroked the dark muzzle. It was to her advantage that she had finally dedicated the time to reading Henry’s story book before the curse was lifted, it seemed, as she vividly recalled the various pictures of a young Regina on her prized chestnut stallion leaping over fences with considerable ease. “Why? Why would she give him to me if he so special? Doesn’t she hate me?” 

There were few things in life that should have been exact in the Enchanted Forest: the Evil Queen would forever hate the savior who had broken her twenty-eight curse, and her mother would continually invite woodland creatures into the dining hall for supper whether or not it bothered her daughter to be eating next to a chipmunk. 

The boy shook his head and stepped closer, nodding to the bay colt. “On the contrary, Princess. The Queen often spoke of your tenaciousness during my lessons, even dwelled on the time she was forced to spend in the dungeons of this place, but she never uttered your name in hatred or dismissal. She told me to bring him here and wait on the outer edges of the fields until you noticed our presence. It was then that I should present you with her gift and ask that you take good care of him until he can be returned to the Winter Castle. She relayed to me that he was to be offered as a token of peace between the two of you, a promise that you both would come together to care for the little prince in a time of war.” 

“She knows about the war?” The fact that Regina didn’t seem to hate her weighed on her mind, but not as much as the peace offering on the condition that they would work together to protect Henry. Emma would have thought it was a given that they would both be on the same team to protect their son, but then with the way things ended in Storybrooke, the sheer terror and anxiousness that permeated the air between both woman during those last final days, she supposed that anything could happen now that the rules had been significantly changed. Still, it was nice to know that Regina was not actively hunting for her head like she had done years ago to Snow White. 

“She is aware that alliances are being made between the other kingdoms, yes.” 

“And her own alliances?” Perhaps her mother was correct. Maybe Regina was feeling out the resistance from the other kingdoms before aligning herself with the best possible chance to acquire Henry with the least amount of effort and loss for her own. “Where does she stand?” 

“That is something I cannot tell you because I do not know.” 

Emma waited a long beat, scrutinizing the young boy now that both feet were on the ground. He was shorter than she had figured when he had sat tall in the saddle, only an inch or two taller than Henry, though he carried himself with the grace of someone considerably older. There was none of the childlike innocence that was still present in her son’s eyes in this boy’s, nothing to suggest that he had ever experienced the safety and protection allotted to the mayor’s son in Storybrooke, where the biggest danger growing up was not being given sugar after dinner. “You didn’t grow up in the castle, did you?” 

“Hardly,” he replied, dark brown eyes searching the horizon for sign of guards returning to the castle. “I grew up in a small town that borders between the Summer and Winter castles, the son of a shepherd and later, a soldier. It was not until later that I was offered the opportunity to be educated by the Queen’s tutors.” 

“And by Regina,” Emma confirmed as she searched the adjoining field for Henry’s lanky body amongst the mass of grey bodies frolicking. The boy stood straighter when he spotted his blonde mother and waved enthusiastically, as any young boy should. 

“Yes. She oversaw many of my lessons, including that of horseback riding, but I fail to see what you seek.”

“Hope. Some kind of hope to give me something to hold on to until I can assure that my son won’t come in the middle of some godforsaken old war between a bunch of egotistical monarchs. George has all but declared war because of me, won’t even consider Henry as a possible heir, and the kid’s other mother is out there somewhere playing at being an intimidating queen when her son needs her to ride to his rescue. Hell, I don’t even know if she’ll talk to me or just rip my heart out of my chest and leave with Henry, but I’m willing to take that chance.” Emma stopped and stared at the kid, unsure if she had completely lost him or not. She looked into the depths of his chestnut eyes and her heart fluttered with potential hope. “If there’s anything the past year taught me, it’s that a mother risks everything to ensure the best possible outcome for their child, so yeah; what I’m looking for is proof that the old Regina I knew from Storybrooke is wandering around in that forest.”

In a small voice, moved by the princess’s admission, the boy mumbled, “Metal is reflective, is it not? Perhaps you should look at the gifts already given instead of searching for answers you will not find in the dark.” 

She blinked, not comprehending, and spun on her heel to more fully face him. “What is that supposed to mean? Why won’t you just tell me how to contact-”

“Halt!” 

Chestnut eyes met green in that moment and the boy revealed a small smile as he turned away from the princess to face the guards who patrolled the castle. He willingly submitted to their desires, allowing them to shackle him. “Metal is reflective, Princess. You would do well to remember that.” 

She faltered, hands bound around the heavy leather reins as the stallion spooked, and watched the young boy, so kind, hoisted behind the guards like cattle at auction. Even as his chains rattled, she drew in a harsh breath, letting it release with a rickety release. “Please!” She hollered after the men, pleading for the life of the young child who had offered her advice and the gift. 

The guards failed to turn back in acknowledgement as they followed orders to remove the intruder from sight, down to the dungeons where he would no longer be a bother or a threat to the populace. With a grin, the boy spun from them. “Fear not, Princess. This is how is was to be.” 

“Great,” Emma muttered and faced the calmed colt beside her. “So, what’s your big secret then? He-” She paused, realizing she had never thought to ask the boy’s name in the midst of receiving her present and interrogating him for information regarding the queen he served. Her mother would have been appalled at the lack of manners she displayed; in fact, Emma was rather appalled herself at the lack of concern she had displayed in her quest for information. “Well, he said that you knew your way through the forest and I suppose I’m expected to return you to the Winter Castle at some point, so spill it- what’s the deal, Pony?” 

She observed the bay closely, carefully cataloguing each and every detail of the royal steed Regina had deemed appropriate for her use. Despite his rangy build and less than refined facial features, he was quite impressive. Her fingers danced along the rich texture of leather that made his saddle, admiring how soft it was against her skin. It was then, as she moved to the front of him to continue her inspection, that she realized his breastplate was almost entirely made of silver. A reflective surface. How ingenious. 

Silver. 

Metal. 

Mirrors. 

“Come on, Pony, show me your master,” Emma urged, bending down until her eyes were level with his chest. She tapped at the breastplate, as if that would spark this world’s version of cell phones. When Regina failed to appear in either voice or visage, she jabbed at the breastplate once more and scowled. “Regina, I swear to God if you’re screwing around with me, I’ll-”

“Mom, what are you doing?” As if by magic, Henry appeared at her side, looking suitably worried as his gaze alternated between the guards striding back to the castle and his frustrated looking mother. 

“Trying to get in touch with Regina via the Enchanted Forest’s version of communication technology, apparently,” Emma answered flatly, glaring at the breastplate that refused to show her what she sought. The merest hint of the queen, the slightest mention that her attempts to find her were not in vain. If the stable boy could be believed, Regina was alive and well, somewhere out in that forest. Where exactly? The blonde former sheriff couldn’t say for certain. As far as a crow flies, in all likelihood. 

What had George said? Send the crows. 

If only she knew how to activate whatever power those disgusting birds held; which words would send them on a squawking quest to the Winter Castle to plead on the behalf of the princess with no respect and the little prince with no redeeming bloodline enough to account for his birth outside of the realm. If metal was reflective, she thought, and Pony wore a silver breastplate, then which words activated the link between it and whatever medium Regina used on the other end to conduct her business. 

“Who’s that?” Henry asked innocently, a grin sprawling across his face as the dark bay stallion snuffled against his chest. He offered his hand to the lanky horse, at once enthralled by the willingness of the colt to draw in his attention. Like his mother, there seemed to be little to no reason for him to learn to ride, not when carriages amassed quick enough to transport him out of danger should there be a threat, so he had limited time with the horses at the castle, except for the weanlings too young to have entered training. 

“Pony,” Emma answered distractedly. For a moment, she watched the sparks of light dance across her fingertips as she stroked the silver breastplate, at once finding the piece of equipment lovely, intriguing, and entirely frustrating. There was not time to wait for Regina to contact her, if she would at all; not enough time for the queen to work through whatever issues still plagued her about her son’s birthmother nor the reserved relationship her son had aspired to in the final days of Storybrooke. “He was a gift from Regina.” 

The young Prince startled and blinked at his mother in confusion. “Mom was here? When?” 

“No. No, Henry, she wasn’t here,” the blonde amended quietly, at once tired of breaking his heart so thoroughly at any mention of his brunette mother. The sooner they found her, she thought, the sooner she could forget about that look of devastation that had crossed his features so frequently as of late. “Pony’s rider, he worked for your mom, at her castle. He brought Pony here.” 

“Before the guards took him away?” A short pause. “Like Rumplestiltskin’s son? And my mom?” 

Emma dipped her head down in acknowledgement, careful to avoid meeting her son’s chestnut-colored eyes. She had long given up trying to explain the convoluted rules of this land; the laws that determined which of its citizens made their ways to the various dungeons hidden beneath the castle and which were allowed to leave with only the slightest rebuke from the monarchs. There was a time when she would sit in her son’s room at night and plead with whichever gods looked over the Enchanted Forest that he would never have to know the terror felt by those escorted to the bowels of the place they called their home. 

“They won’t...they won’t kill him, will they? I mean, he was just talking to you. Is that a crime here?”   
The innocence in his voice was prominent enough to make her falter, unsure of how she kept her feet beneath her. Not for the first time, she wondered how the townspeople could declare that her parent’s rule was just and fair; it only led to questions about the other kingdoms for her, and the methods used to control the populace in those lands. Had Regina employed the same harsh punishments? 

Emma scowled. Of course she had. The sorceress had stolen hearts from living prisoners who dared to go against her wishes, perhaps even used those hearts to control her victims. Yet, she was the very person Emma so very much wanted on her side should everything go to hell. Shouldn’t the kingdom utilize what magic was in this realm? Utilize those trained and skilled in it to overcome their enemies?

But, at what expense? George’s head? His freedom? 

Not only did she need the Evil Queen’s assistance in protecting their son, but she also needed the former mayor’s knowledge of the land since it was clear she would not be schooled in the rules before George’s armies swept through the castle. If not a princess, Emma was certain she would have been hauled off to the dungeons for crimes committed unknowingly. She poked at Pony’s chest once more with considerably more force, willing Regina to appear before her. 

“Not if I can help it,” Emma proclaimed to her son with a forceful tone. There were no winners here, she realized, but there were a considerable amount of losers. She didn’t want that for Henry, not when his only crime was being a child in this place. “Henry,” she said quietly, wary of potential guards still roaming the forest, “I need you to run back to the castle and stay there. If there is any trouble, any sign of something bad happening, I need you to run out to the middle of the courtyard and scream for Regina. Can you do that?” 

Henry gazed at her with a skeptical expression. “Where are you going?” 

“To find Regina.” 

The little prince contemplated that for a moment as he watched his mother approached the horse slowly, as if the steed would suddenly launched into an attack. Actually, it was not unlikely that the horse might take offense by the way his blonde mother slapped the reins over his head carelessly before she moved to arrange herself at his side. He hid a grin when Emma slipped her foot into the stirrup and wobbled heavily until she found purchase on Pony’s mane. If the situation were not so dire, he might have laughed outright at her plan to ride off into the sunset to find the Evil Queen; might have laughed if he had not known that their lives depended on his brunette mother’s agreement to help them and, by extension, her step-daughter. 

Didn’t her love for him outweigh her hatred of Snow White? That, he couldn’t seem to find the answer without finding doubt behind it. A part of him wanted to dash at the horse, leap onto its back, and demand that he be allowed to accompany his mother in her seemingly impetuous quest. The other part of him wanted to hide in a corner of the castle until everything disappeared and he woke in his old room in Storybrooke, without fear of dungeons and kings. 

By some miracle, Emma made it into the saddle without causing herself bodily injury. Even Pony appeared content with the new situation. She leaned down from her perch atop the leather saddle and faced Henry with serious expression. “Do what I told you, Henry. Any sign of danger and you scream for Regina.” She refused to tell her son that her instructions were based on the stories from the other world about mothers who knew the instant something happened to their child; a mother’s intuition. Surely the woman who had raised the boy for ten years would carry that same instinct after bandaging boo-boos, soothing temper tantrums, and caring for him daily. 

She waited for his nod, adjusting the reins in her non-gloved hands until it felt more natural. Idly, she wondered how Regina would chide her for the improper position, for the way she slouched slightly in the saddle, and the uneasiness she felt atop the powerful beast. The uncomfortableness she felt was increased tenfold when she came to the realization that, unlike her beloved Bug, there was no ignition atop a horse; no known brake or gas pedal. “Find Regina, Pony,” she finally ordered on the prayer that the horse could understand English or at least had the good sense to move off without proper guidance. 

Pony stepped forward the barest smidgen of what could be considered an inch. From the saddle, it felt more like impatience than obedience to the command. “Come on, Pony, work with me here.” She nudged her heels against his sides and waited for the expected first step forward. When it never came, much to Henry’s amusement, she dropped the reins, fully content to remain in the field for the rest of the night until the stallion became bored enough to return himself to his home. 

The stallion strode forward tentatively, neck pulsing forward as he tested the newfound freedom. With a sharp snort, he picked up a jaunty trot, nearly dislodging the rider on his back who desperately clung to the saddle for fear of falling. 

Emma grunted at the impact of her rear end against the soft leather. She waved briefly to her son before she resigned herself to her fate. Why anyone would choose this mode of transportation was beyond her as Pony lined himself along the fence that separated the field from the rest of the forest. 

The blonde blinked once, twice, three times, clung to the saddle, and vowed to make Regina pay for not showing up when she attempted to use the mirror-metal magic communication technique when she found the queen. 

“Uh-oh.”


	4. Chapter 4

High above the trees, Snow White observed the council members gathered in the war room and recounted the first days, of the battle against her stepmother, when she had first called for their advice. In those days, life had been simple; good was good, evil was evil, and Regina was out for her blood. Now though with the addition of her daughter, the same child left abandoned on the side of the road to escape the Evil Queen’s curse, Snow White found herself reluctantly pondering the potential outcome of her decisions; of the council’s decisions. 

As a Queen should, as Regina had once taught her, she carefully observed those around her, looking for the weaknesses among the bunch. Granny, though armed with a trusty crossbow and deadly aim, could prove to be a liability should she be faced with the decision to fire a bolt in the direction of her lost granddaughter; the dwarves would swear loyalty for a shiny sliver of diamond but would soon trade sides as soon as their interest waned in the face of actually receiving compensation for their efforts. Even the guards, those that remained in the frozen land when the curse hit, had proven themselves less than loyal to the kingdom. The first traitor being the man who had willingly sacrificed his own life and limb to ensure the deposed queen found freedom on one cold and blustery night. 

With potential traitors surrounding her, Snow turned to face the council. “There are weak spots in the kingdom; places that have been allowed to crumble in favor of more advantageous battle ground. Should George find them, my family will fall. The kingdom will never accept Emma as their new Queen and she will be exiled, quite possibly executed if George’s warnings are to be heeded. There is no heir to the throne,” she declared quietly and lowered her eyes in defeat. When the curse had delivered them into their kingdom, she had held hope that those that made up its constituency would recognize Henry as their young prince, forgive the side of his family tree that would forever tie him to the Dark One, perhaps forget that for ten years he was educated under the watchful eye of the Evil Queen. “Should the kingdom fall-”

“We can fight!” A lone soldier towards the back of the room declared. His body was concealed by the dark shadows cast about the room, save for the fleeting glances of black leather aglow from the torches. 

At first glance, he looked like a man, tall and proud, but the Queen cast a wary eye into the shadows to find that he was not much more than a child. His lanky frame, much like her grandson’s, had yet to mature and develop the physical intimidation of a soldier. He was gangly with stooped shoulders, thin-framed, and roman nosed. He was the boy from the bakers in one of the neighboring towns. 

“How do you propose we defeat King George and his armies? The hardened soldiers who defend the Forbidden Fortress in the dead of winter when only the wolves dare to leave their retreats?” Snow advanced on the boy, feeling no sympathy towards a child out to get himself killed because of foolishness. She had once possessed something similar, back when she had believed her stepmother to be a kind and loving woman; somewhere before the posters appeared in the Enchanted Forest that branded the young princess a traitor to the crown. “What do you suggest we do when the Evil Queen unleashes her powers perfected on the kingdom? Do you suggest that we march to our deaths? Perhaps beg for mercy from the sharp blades held at our necks as we are tried as traitors?” 

The boy appeared to shrink in on himself, shoulder slumped further as he retreated to a place near the baker who had taken him in. “I merely-”

“Yes,” Snow interrupted as she advanced. “You merely thought that enthusiasm would defeat the armies that will fall against our walls; you merely thought that if we lifted our spirits and forgot about the nasty things that might happen should we fail that it would stop the advancement of the soldiers. If you intend to live, then you should learn to fear the sound of hoofbeats against the ground, tremble at the sound of king’s ordering soldiers to advance through our defenses, and scream in terror when my stepmother reaches for your heart.” 

“Your Majesty,” a guard called from the open doorway. Behind him, a young man grinned at the Queen, meeting her gaze full-on without so much as a blink of terror at being held in shackles. “We found a trespasser on the grounds. He was conversing with the Princess in the fields.” 

At the news, Snow turned away from the baker’s boy and strode across the room to where the guards remained stationary, the prisoner held between them. “What is your business here?” She asked, addressing the dark-haired boy. “What business did you have with my daughter?” 

“Delivered a gift to the Princess, your highness,” he replied amiably, though not without a lack of grace when addressing the reigning monarch.

“A gift? For my daughter?” The pixie-haired brunette cocked her head to further study the young man. Far too young to be a suitor, and though his attire was of high quality it was not that of a prince or king. “Who sent you?” Could it be George with a warning, or perhaps the beginning of his plan to destroy all traces of the White kingdom?

The boy grinned again. “A gift of precious value, something suitable from my Queen.” 

Snow White closed her eyes against the sudden burst of pain that thrummed behind her temples. A part of her wished it were Maleficent who sent spies into her midst, but the sorceress was hardly known for venturing from her keep to concern herself with the actions of those who remained far away from her. Suspicions confirmed that there was only one who could have possibly been responsible for such a gift, she opened her eyes to face the latest traitor to enter into her court; a spy from Regina, it seemed, had made it past the guards at the gates and into the fields so close to the castle. “Who is it you serve?” 

One final question and one final admission to seal the boy’s fate by their law. Should he utter any other name but her own or James’, he would perish in the dungeons below; a fact that had older, wiser men aligning themselves with her name to escape the harsh punishment they would receive otherwise. Snow turned chocolate brown eyes on the child and silently begged him to lie to her, to not force her to enact such a fate on a boy who, by all rights, could have been her grandchild if not for the slight height difference and subtle facial disparities. 

“The rightful Queen,” he murmured proudly. “Queen Regina.” 

Snow exhaled harshly against the silence that surrounded them, feeling expectant eyes from the council members behind her and the partially hidden gazes of the soldiers awaiting their next orders. “To the dungeons,” she whispered softly. “For acts of trespassing and treason.”

“No!” 

The Queen stepped forward at the sound of her grandson’s voice from down the hallway, hearing his desperate plea at the fate announced. She stepped forward to grab lightly at his arm and turn his away from the prisoner about to be dragged down to the dungeons; it was a sight he did not need to see, not when his innocence had already been plundered by those of his adoptive mother in rags. “Henry, please.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong!” Henry protested, fighting against the grip that held him back from the guards and the young man who had ties to his mother. What could he have done to warrant being placed in the dungeons for an indeterminate amount of time? Was it because he gave Emma a horse on behalf of his other mother? “He didn’t do anything! He gave her a present!”

“What was it, Henry? What did he give to Emma?” 

“A horse,” the boy replied easily, casting a glance out the far window inside the war room that overlooked the fields he had been ordered from. From his place in the doorway, he couldn’t see if his mother was still there but he hoped she had gone to get help; to find someone willing to find his other mother. “He gave her a horse.” 

Snow gripped his shoulders, turning him until he forced to look at her instead of the window. “Henry, what is done is done. He’s trespassed on our land, committed treason against us. He works-” She paused her line of thought, unsure if she should inform the boy of his mother’s ascension back to the throne she had once ruled from to the North. 

“For my mom, I know.” Henry smiled broadly, a brief reminder of the happy child in Storybrooke so convinced that everyone was a fairy tale character and if the savior would only break the Evil Queen’s curse then everything would be right again in the world. “Now he can go back to her and tell her that George wants to do bad things. She’ll come help, I know she will.”

She was reminded of a time when she, too, had held blind faith in the brunette woman he referred to. There was a time when she thought Regina hung the moon and made the stars come out at night, but then something changed. The young woman who had saved her from a runaway horse had transformed into a cold, unfeeling Queen who ruled with an steel determination to rid the kingdom of her husband’s child. “She won’t come, Henry!” Snow hollered. “She would rather see us all burn than come to help. Don’t you see that, Henry; she is the Evil Queen from your storybook.” 

The boy become impossibly small in her grasp, shuddering at both the sound of being chastised and the realization that the cruel words and titles he had flung around so easily in Storybrooke would forever haunt him in the Enchanted Forest. He had foolish notions of reuniting his mothers together, watching them rule the kingdoms together, and putting an end to the age old feuds that resided in his family line. 

“Take him to the dungeons,” Snow reminded the guards, indicating the young man who appeared far too interested in her conversation with her grandson for his own good. She absently wondered if, perhaps, that was why Regina had sent him to spy on her; to find out the intimate details of the royal family and exactly what it would take to rip them apart to make it easier to ascend the throne without massive casualties on the battleground. She gripped Henry’s shoulder and directed him into the war room, wondering, not for the first time, if Regina would ride to Henry’s rescue or if she would confine him to the contempt she felt for the rest of Snow White’s bloodline. 

“She cares for you deeply, Henry,” the young man said valiantly as the guards led him away. His voice resounded against the stone walls, ensuring the young prince heard his declaration. With a grunt, he followed the guards as they marched him to the stairs that would lead down to his imprisonment; followed willingly down the flight of steps now that his duties above were completed as ordered. His Queen could find no fault in his actions, of that much he was certain. 

He approached the intended cell with some trepidation, unsure of what he might find amongst the hay and water pail that lay at the back of the small space. Fit for a dog, indeed, he thought as one of the guards gestured for him to enter. But even the dogs had moved onto better places, he noted as the shackles were removed from his hands, only to be replaced by a longer chain that ensured he had nowhere to run but to the back of his cell for comfort. When the guards left him, wet and utterly unimpressed with the latest development in his journey to prove himself as more than the son of his Queen’s rescuer, he turned to observe his surroundings, oddly compelled to investigate the lump of hay in the corner. 

In previous experience, hay did not remained stacked as it was. It often fell to the floor in scattered clumps but it didn’t scale the walls as it did here. If he strained, he could reach the bottom of it and skirt about the edges with the toe of his shoe. 

“Stop that,” a voice ordered tiredly. A man’s body appeared from the bundle of hay, haggard and worn as any twice his age. 

The boy waited until the dark-haired man had shaken himself off, ridding the remnants of wet hay from his body, before he spoke. “Who are you?” An innocuous question; something that should be answered on principle alone, to identify a person by their rightful title instead of addressing them like one would a mutt who wandered into the stables at night. 

“Neal,” the man answered flatly, sounding almost perturbed that his sleep had been disturbed by the arrival of a new prisoner. The last had been the Evil Queen, and even she had managed to escape in the dead of night from her fate. “But you may better know me as Baelfire.” 

“The son of Rumplestiltskin.” The young boy considered it for a moment, searching through his lessons to find mention of the Dark One’s son by the queen. Neal had been a part of the other word, though not a part of Storybrooke and the curse, having left the land before it could be enacted. 

Neal nodded and scrubbed at his face with his hands. Acknowledgement of his bloodline had been his only crime, aside from defiling the princess at a time when he failed to recognize who she was. The laws of this land had always struck him as odd; barbaric, once he reached the land without magic and learned to live outside the Enchanted Forest. Statute of limitations did not exist here, nor trial by jury. “Neal,” he countered. 

“Ian,” the boy responded by way of acknowledgement. Perhaps it was better he was not sent to lie with the dogs; certainly the son of the Dark One would prove to be better company than a flea-infested hound. “You’ve been here for quite some time?” he inquired, observing the lack of grooming the older man displayed. 

Neal loosed a crooked grin, content with having another person to speak with, and cocked his head to the side. This one was younger than the last, more male, and certainly lacking the royal blood of his former companion. It seemed, too, he was not as despised as the deposed queen had been and, therefore, not as likely to raise a ruckus amongst the others who dwelt in the dungeons. Though he did miss having her company, quiet as she was. “Since the curse broke. It appears that there were certain caveats that even the queen hadn’t expected. I was not a part of the original casting, having long since gone from this place, yet I was transported back anyway.”

It had been one of the few things the former queen had been willing to discuss; everything else had been deemed off limits from the moment she acknowledged his existence and significant ties to her former tutor. He should have been safe, protected in New York with his fiancee when the bindings of the curse shattered. 

“Then you’ve spent time in the company of my Queen,” Ian declared quietly as he lowered himself to the chilled stone floor. He wondered if this was where his father had offered food and water to the despised prisoner, provided companionship and assistance when it was asked for. “And you’ve spent time in the company of my father.” 

Neal studied the young boy for a long time, observing his features and trying to determine which of his captors or fellow prisoners he referred to. With nothing to do but wait until his fate could be decided, to deign which of the kingdoms would use him as a pawn against his father, he had heightened his awareness of others; carefully cataloguing their weaknesses for a time when it best suited him to strike. “You’re the kind guard’s son; the one who offered freedom to Regina when she requested death.”

“Death?”

“Death,” Neal confirmed, recalling the look of anguish upon the former queen’s face when she was delivered roughly back into her cell. She had long grown tired of being displayed to the royal family and humiliated before her son, and had finally reached her breaking point. The slightest pressure from one of the guard’s swords through her ribcage would end her suffering, she had argued; a trip or fall down the stone steps. “But your father offered her freedom instead. In the dead of night, he afforded her the luxury of leaving her cell and the assurance that he would do everything he could to conceal her flight should she use her magic to disappear. He kept that promise as far as I know.” 

“He was executed today for his part in the plan,” Ian replied. “She kept her promise, though, and I was educated in her courts once she reestablished herself.” 

“Then she did it,” Baelfire whispered into the silence of the dungeon. He stared at the cell beside them, what he had long since deigned as the Queen’s cell, and recalled their stilted conversations through the bars. The look of resignation that had fluttered across her face when she told him of her son’s refusal to acknowledge her presence in the throne room; the times he offered what little fabric was thrown into his cell as covering for the harsh winter nights so she could bandage the wounds inflicted /.by rough flooring. “What she set out to do, to conquer the Winter Castle, and establish herself as one of the primary powers in this land.” 

Ian grinned and puffed out his chest in a childlike exuberance for being a part of that plan, albeit the beneficiary of certain benefits that came along with being allowed within the castle. 

Neal shook his head from side to side, expelling wet hay from his overly long hair. “Is there news? For me? Did she send a message?” 

The boy reared back at the intense look in the older man’s eyes, for the son of Rumplestiltskin his alliances could not be trusted on principle alone. But there was a fire in her eyes that alluded to a sense that perhaps he had been wounded by the world he had been thust back into, by those he should have been able to trust, and that made him an unlikely ally in and of itself. “The plan is in motion,” Ian replied quietly, content that his final orders had finally been carried out. The man in the dungeon, the one who had offered some companionship, was informed. “War will soon be on Snow White’s doorstep.”

“Then we should prepare for it,” Neal declared valiantly, more so than any man should when confined to a prison cell in the dungeon of what could be considered an enemy of circumstance. Had he not been consider a danger and potential pawn by the ruling Queen, he might have offered his knowledge and service to the White kingdom, but as it was he found himself more willing to assist those who saw beyond the blood that lingered in his veins. There was a saying in the other world- that blood was thicker than water- but sometimes water prevailed over the unfortunate ties that bound blood together. Hadn’t he run to a world without magic to escape his father? He would have thought, in another lifetime, that the fact he had would have been enough to justify his release. “Has Emma been informed of the plan?” 

A soft snort in response. The savior had been given the means to sort out a plan, to come to her own conclusions regarding which army to lay her odds on, but by no utterance by his own tongue had he revealed any part of the unfolding plan to her, not even the insignificant parts he had been entrusted with. “She’s been given a mount who will lead her through the Enchanted Forest,” he remarked. 

“Without a weapon or knowledge of what lies beyond the castle walls? She’ll soon find herself in the belly of the wolves,” Neal countered, scowling at the thought of his former girlfriend alone in a world where the very present danger of being executed based on title alone reigned. With war on the horizon, having the daughter of an enemy as prisoner could be a very valuable bargaining chip. 

“Do you truly believe the Queen would allow the savior into the world without some sort of plan? That she would allow someone else to take the victory of procuring the demise for the woman who broke the curse?” Ian sat back against the wall and waited for a response. Surely the son of Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t be so dense as to not believe that there was more to ensuring the princess acquired a prize mount from the Winter Castle. If anything, the Queen would want her stallion back safe and sound. 

Demise. Baelfire reclined against the mound of hay that had been his bed and source of warmth. The woman he had known in the dungeon had wanted freedom, something that would ensure the continued safety of her son and by extent his other mother, but he had not stopped to consider that she might want the boy all to herself, even at the cost of starting another war with Snow White. 

“Or she might wish to thank the Princess for showing compassion,” the boy continued after further thought of his queen’s plans for the blonde woman he had met in the fields. She had seemed anxious for some sort of reprieve for the quandary she found herself in, faced with a potential death sentence from a neighboring kingdom or bowing to the will of the one who had cast the curse in the first place. How eager she had been to take the offered gift without question, without concern that it was anything other than a means to assist in the continued well-being of their shared son. 

“Then our fate rests on Emma’s decisions,” Neal remarked as he lay back against the stone wall of his prison, resigning himself to waiting longer for whichever outcome would take place outside of the walls.


	5. Chapter 5

“Uh oh.” 

Emma grunted as Pony leaped with considerable skill over the fence that separated the fields from the rest of the forest. In silence, she remained in her seat as her mount deftly led them past the invisible lines that separated the safety of the kingdom from the uncertainly that lay beyond the walls. The Enchanted Forest, dark and dreary, up ahead awaited their presence, full of whatever magical creatures resided and reigned in the thick foliage. There was a part of her that recognized the foolishness of sending Henry away, back to the castle, before mounting the stallion and setting off on an adventure without proper equipment or knowledge of the places she would go. 

Nothing but a mount who had been trained under Regina’s orders, a gamble in and of itself considering the queen’s volatile temperament and considerable hatred of the intended rider’s mother. She supposed she should be glad that Pony hadn’t already bucked her off and trampled her, a fate befitting a novice rider so naive to think that nothing would happen on her journey to the Winter Castle. But the longer she remained on his back, straddling the leather saddle, she let herself believe that there was nothing that would befall her as long as she remained upright and under whatever protection lay in a mount who displayed the colors of Regina’s rule. 

But as the dark bay padded quietly along a path through the trees, Emma couldn’t help but feel a startling sense of fear creep up her spine until it lingered near her temples. She had no compass, no real sense of direction except the knowledge that they were venturing further away from the castle than she had ever been before. It was unnerving, and she trembled at the consideration of what might be hiding behind a bush or a tree or rock. The blonde recalled the map in the war room, the scattered pieces that displayed where each of their enemies and allies alike resided in the Forest. 

The wolf packs, those known to the kingdom, remained scattered throughout without a sense of rhyme or reason, which alerted Emma to the fact that she could be prey, stalked by the creatures without her knowledge. There was also the sneaking suspicion that not all the wolves, the werewolves in particular, affiliated themselves with the same reasoning Ruby and Granny had, that people were not meals. 

But as Pony continued down the path, snaking through the low hanging trees that hadn’t been cast off yet by riders, she reminded herself that the wolves weren’t the only dangers present. King George had passed through this area recent enough to make her cringe in fear of another meeting with the egotistical psychopath who dared to taunt a child with the prospects of death. Then, there was Maleficent, and the villages who aligned themselves with no one unless it suited their best interests. She was well and truly alone except for the horse beneath her. 

“Any hints on how much longer, buddy?” Emma asked, feeling momentarily self-conscious talking to a horse in the middle of the woods. There was no answer, but then she might have felt more ridiculous if there had been one, not to mention severely bruised as she would have likely fell from the saddle in pure shock. 

Talking animals were apparently not part of the Enchanted Forest, yet another aspect of fairy tales that had been miscommunicated to the poor, unsuspecting children of the other world. Oddly, she felt let down by the fact that bluebirds, annoying as they were, failed to hold conversations in her mother’s castle. Though, that might have been disturbing on many levels to find her mother holding court with the little varmints and critters who littered the floors. 

She supposed she should have been prepared for that, seeing as how Regina’s anger had been reduced to petty jealousy over perceived beauty instead of the ire at having been betrayed by the young princess and forced into a loveless marriage. Emma shook herself off at the thought of being married to a man old enough to be her father. No wonder Regina had lost it. She might have too if given the same circumstances. 

A soft grunt escaped her lips as Pony darted unexpectedly down a forked road. He pulled short a moment later and shuffled into a partially concealed swath of trees along the side of the road. Even as inexperienced as she was with this world, she recognized the sound of hoofbeats against the hard ground and turned to seek out the riders. 

Riders in black, she amended at the sight of the unit moving swiftly down the path. Six or seven of them led the charge, tearing down the dirt as though they were fleeing from danger, and towards the middle resided a slower moving carriage. Without thought, she nudged her mount closer to the road, anxious to announce her presence to whoever was in the carriage; her suspicions peaked at the thought that she might have already concluded her journey to track down Regina and ask for assistance. But Pony refused to move from his hiding place amongst the trees. 

Emma watched in confusion as the riders continued down the path, unaware of the single stallion who waited alongside the road. She scowled down at the dumb animal when he finally moved back onto the path, several meters behind the few colts who flanked the carriage. “You couldn’t have moved earlier? You dumb idiot! That was your master!” 

The horse grunted and ambled on at a pace that would ensure they would never catch up to the other riders. His feet dragged along the path, sending puffs of dirt up along his belly and backside, and his head hung lower to the ground as he snuffled at the sharp blades of grass that speckled the road. 

Emma kicked him roughly, expecting some sort of reaction other than a deep exhalation of air from her mount. In that moment, she hated Regina for sending her a defective gift, the foolish animal not intelligent enough to recognize those who were stabled with him at the Winter Castle. The dumb thing not bright enough to comprehend that its rider desired to meet the passenger in the carriage. 

“Well, well, what have we here?” 

The blonde froze, silently cursing the stallion’s lack of instinct to know that this was the precise time when he should run, preferably after the black carriage well ahead of them. She turned in the saddle, hands racing down to gather the majority of the leather reins she had allowed to trail along the horse’s neck. What had seemed like a gesture of freedom for her gift was now a weapon to be used against her as the soldiers advanced on the lone rider. If her mount would run, there was a chance she could escape the foot soldiers, but Pony refused to budge. 

It would serve her right that she wouldn’t be surrounded by wolves, or bluebirds, or even Evil Queens out looking for vengeance; no, she would be the lucky one to be circled by a group of sneering soldiers wearing red. Dammit. It would serve her right to go galavanting across the Enchanted Forest in search of an Evil Queen and come across the armed guards of King George instead.

“A little blonde princess out on her lonesome? What a delightful treat.” 

Her heels nudged at the reluctant stallion, urging him to run, to leap, to get them the hell out of there, but once again he refused to budge from his place on the road. The reins were yanked out of her tight grip and she found herself being led behind the soldiers, unable to do anything but wonder how much it would hurt should she attempt to jump to the ground and run for freedom. 

“You wouldn’t make it five paces,” one of the soldiers reminded her as he tucked his arm around her calf. “Stay on the horse or be bound in chains and dragged along.” 

Emma complied without protest, knowing any sign of resistance would be futile. She would just have to use her skills as a bail bonds woman from her old life to rescue her out of the terror that had become her new life, which might be easier said than done. After all, she had never been surrounded by seven men with access to swords before with her only line of defense a horse with a poor sense of self-preservation for either himself or his rider. “Let me go,” she pleaded. “Tell George that you lost me in the woods or something. Tell him that-”

“Lie? To my King? Absolutely not, Princess,” the soldier remarked, shaking his head in amusement. “Besides, you’re worth far too much to let wander around the forest. I daresay the king would have our heads should you conveniently disappear.” 

“Great. So I get to lose my head ‘cause you-”

“Lose your head? No. Not yet, Princess.” The soldier gripped her calf more securely as Pony was led further down the winding road. “Keep your head down, though, and do try not to anger the King, perhaps you might find yourself on his better side.” 

The blonde exhaled shakily. There had been a time when she would have met trouble head on, but here, she was more willing to follow the instructions of someone working for another someone who wanted her dead and out of the way. At least they hadn’t killed her on the side of the road, she thought as her eyes darted along the path ahead. “Where are we going?” 

“The Winter Castle.” 

She perked instantly, sitting deeper in the saddle as Pony trudged faithfully behind the soldiers. “The Winter Castle?” Emma repeated and looked for visible confirmation from the soldier. Perhaps Pony wasn’t as dim as she had previously thought the beast to be. “But that’s not-”

“You should refrain from appearing so happy, Princess. As an offering, a gift, you might want to consider the fate that awaits you in the place where the Evil Queen dwells.” 

She should have figured the grand plan revolving around her capture wouldn’t be as simple as delivery straight to the Evil Queen. No, Emma should have realized that capture of any sort would be deafening to the thrill of a personal escort to the place she needed to venture to. Some gift, she thought callously; the gift of a prisoner. There was no better time to indulge in thoughts of Storybrooke, the sanity that rested there as opposed to this place that seemed to thrive on insanity. 

She missed her beloved bug, the faithful vehicle that could have already delivered her to the front walk up to Regina’s mansion had they been in Storybrooke; she missed the soft voice of her son, whispering how the Evil Queen’s curse had stopped time for the fairy tale characters, and, surprisingly, she missed the bite of sarcasm that laced every word out of the mayor’s mouth. All she wanted was Regina to make things better, to take them away from the place where wars were commonplace and executions the entertainment of festivals. Funny how in Storybrooke, she couldn’t wait to get away from the mayor in the end, to prove that the dark-haired woman was the Evil Queen from Henry’s storybook. Now, she only realized that there were greater evils the book failed to mention in the Enchanted Forest. 

“A gift?” Like her head on a spike? Or, a pretty bow around her neck, still firmly connected to the rest of her living, breathing body. 

Somehow she didn’t think that giving Princess’ as gifts was standard practice, even for the Enchanted Forest, and that alone made her wary about the things to come. Best case scenario: George dropped her off with Regina and she could plead her case, beg to not be dumped into the dungeon or have her heart ripped out of her chest. Worst case scenario: Regina laughed victoriously as she wrenched the beating organ from her enemy’s daughter’s chest. Emma couldn’t help but hold out hope that her own unique charm and ties to Henry would keep her alive should she find Regina in a poor mood. 

No, she would hold out hope that Regina would do anything for her son, their son, especially in a time of war. Emma refused to consider the possibility that she might be rebuked for her request, perhaps even shunned from the castle altogether and left to her fate and that of her family. Snow and Charming would come up with something, some rabbit to be pulled out of the hat, at the last minute to save themselves; after all, true love had been purported to prevail in Henry’s book, right? Was that not the moral behind the tales? 

“The black carriage, it passed not too long ago,” Emma said quietly, breeching only the repetitive clumping of Pony’s hooves about the ground and the soldier’s footsteps beside her. “That was the Queen, wasn’t it? You could take me to her, directly to her.” 

The soldier stared straight ahead at the forking road before them. He would not deviate, no matter how much the princess pleaded or bargained for her freedom. There had been prisoners before, caught as they attempted escape over the free lands, who had made efforts to bargain for their lives and had failed miserably in their tasks. They had been more worldly, more insightful into the needs of a soldier than the blonde princess who begged solely on the principle that she desired to be free. 

“You could be a hero to the king,” she reminded him, praying that she understood enough about the loyalty that ran rampant through this world to make him change his mind about following orders. “Why take me all the way to King George when you could cut off the Queen’s ride and deliver me yourself?” 

“I have orders.” 

Emma groaned quietly when she came to the realization that he was not going to simply take the word of a princess who failed to recognize the law of the land. She would have to try another tactic should she wish to wind up in the Winter Castle, head intact and heart still beating. “I have to pee,” she declared a moment later, pouting at the prospect of having to use a tree or bush for substitution to the modern plumbing with which she was accustomed. It was bad enough her rear end was in tremendous pain from bouncing along Pony’s back in her ill-conceived plan to ride across the Enchanted Forest without a good sense of direction or distance, but the urge pull over to the side of the road had become rather insistent. 

The soldier quirked dark brows in acknowledgement of both her request and lack of manners befitting a member of royalty. 

“Could we, you know, pull this thing over so I can... do my thing? Then you can take me to George and let him do his thing.” 

“Halt the line!” cried the soldier at her side, his hand crushing against her leg when he motioned for her to dismount. He took Pony’s reins and pulled him off to the side of the road, an intention block should anyone cross them. 

She couldn’t help the snort of derision that escaped her. It was a rather pointless gesture, but she appreciated it all the same. With a grunt, she dismounted and scowled at her sore thigh muscles; there were some things that all her hours in the gym couldn’t prepare her for, riding on some broad-backed horse for hours on end was one of them. She quickly shuffled behind Pony and considered her options. While she feel the need to relieve herself, it was not a top priority when it came to her plan to escape. 

A swift glance around at the ground revealed an abundance of twigs and other debris that would not do her a lick of good against a sword-wielding contingent of soldiers set on delivering her to their monarch. For a good long moment, she considered yelling “Dragon” in the hopes that it would be like a fire alarm in the other world, complete with the desired reaction of soldiers leaving her to find the elusive flying reptile. She dismissed the plan as ludicrous seconds later and returned to observing her surroundings. 

She cursed herself for dismounting. Surely, Pony would sense the urgency that flooded through her veins and do as she ask by running away over the scattered bits of ice and grass that lined the path. Or, he would remain oblivious to the very real terror that his rider felt and remain content to stand with the soldiers who meant her harm and destruction. 

Flight or fight. Run or face death. 

Emma did the only thing she could think to do, she ran. Up the hill that bordered the trail, her feet fumbled to retain purchase on the slick ground as she scrambled for higher ground. It was a shame to leave her pretty present behind, but, he had his chance to be useful and she would just have to find another way to return him to Regina later or make up his worth in shiny baubles. Feeling the burn in her lungs of not having frequented a gym or done much exercise at all since the curse broke, she fought against her body to continue, confident in the fact that the soldiers wore heavier armor than that of her own riding leathers. 

At the top of the hill, she stopped momentarily to catch her breath and peer down at the oblivious soldier below who failed to notice her escape. He probably thought she had moved up the hill to get further out of sight from the other guards while she tended to her business, the blonde thought as she scoured the land in search of her next move. It was all well and good to run off the road but without a plan, she would find herself in as much, if not more, danger than she was in. Emma followed the line of the dirt road, tracing up the path that the riders in path had taken earlier. Without a good sense of direction as to where she was going, she would have to follow them and risk the foot soldiers catching up to her. She could only pray that she took the right turns up the winding road. With a grunt, she clung to the shadows of the trees and darted between the areas left open and vulnerable as she followed the road. 

She cast a wary glance back to see the confusion of the soldiers as they began their search for the missing princess, and shuddered. There was no return back to their keep, not if she wanted a chance to survive George’s fate for her. Branches clung to her clothes, scratching blindly at her skin as she raced through them without care or worry to what injuries might befall her. Recalling all of her tracking skills, she placed herself on a path most likely ventured upon by the riders and prayed to the heavens that she might be lucky. 

It wouldn’t do her any good to face Regina’s wrath in the afterlife should she have left Henry without protection in the castle only to die out in the forest. Maybe she should have stayed on Pony and let the soldiers lead her away on the hopes she would be delivered whole and intact to the Winter Castle, she thought as her feet desperately fought to keep trudging along over the uneven ground. Her head remained turned to the side in attempts to follow the soldiers progression, an unfortunate circumstance which led her to crash into something considerably more flesh-like than the massive trees that loomed above. 

“Oof!” 

Emma’s eyes widened and her pulse increased steadily until she was sure she would have a heart attack on the spot. Strong hands gripped at her shoulders, preventing her only way of escape and hushed protests, as the body before her began to materialize fully into her line of sight. 

“Hold still,” a deep voice ordered above her. 

“I...I need-”

“To escape? Yes, I already know that,” the man holding her prisoner answered. He lowered his head until his dark brown eyes met her blue ones, and chuckled heartily at the sight of the princess thrashing in his arms. She was a strong one, he would give her that. “But you have no idea to where you might escape, so, perhaps you’ll let me assist you before the soldiers trailing your path catch up and discover you’ve been above them this entire time.” 

Her response was to struggle more anxiously in his tight embrace, to run until she collapsed from sheer exhaustion and hopelessness of being utterly lost. “Why?” She stammered when the cost of fighting became too harsh for her already sore limbs to bear. 

“Because I’ve been tracking you for quite some time,” he responded evenly, bracing himself for another struggle. When it didn’t come, he loosened his grip on her arms but remained before her, a barricade for her to try to out-maneuver. “My friend and I, that is, we’ve been on your trail since you entered the Enchanted Forest.” 

“Friend?” The blonde glanced around the forest but found no one hiding amongst the trees, not even the merest hint of another living being. 

“She’s gone back to cover your trail along the road; secure it, if you will. What you did back there was very brave, but also incredibly foolish. Should those soldiers have possessed even a modicum of intelligence, they would have anticipated you would try to run and caught you before you began. As is it, you are very lucky that it was I who ran into your path instead of a soldier or other creature.” He paused and shuffled his stance until he appeared less threatening. “My name is Marcus,” he offered.

Emma nodded slowly, unsure of whether she should try to run or take the stranger at his word that his friend would help to keep her safe. Running had never gotten her to the place she wanted to be in the past, so she remained still. “That’s really nice and all, but-”

“You seek out the Queen,” he finished for her. 

“God yes. I really need to-”

“Find her?” 

The blonde woman frowned. What was he? A mind-reader? “I saw what I think was her carriage or at least some of her horses up ahead so, if you be so kind as to move it along, I’ll be on my way. ” She moved to skirt around his lanky frame but found herself unable to do so as he shimmied into her path. “Really, I’m grateful that you and your friend are doing...whatever it is you’re doing for me but I need to find Regina and tell her that her son is in danger.” 

“She already knows, Princess.” The stable boy jerked his hand in the direction the horses had taken. “Do you really think her daft to not realize what is taking place in this land? To not understand that an indication of war against Snow White also means war against the little prince? Think again, Princess. She’s more aware of the happenings here then you could ever hope to be.” 

That much had already been made abundantly clear, Emma thought to herself. First, she had ridden out without a plan to find the Queen, only to find that her gift was defective and been led straight into the path of George’s foot soldiers. Second, she had fallen prey to the age old saying ‘look where you’re going’, and wound up in the arms of Tall, Dark, and Infuriating. “That’s nice. Can you take me to her or not?” 

“Your wish is my command.”   
“Yeah, that’s my wish, so let’s make it happen.” Emma paused. “And soon,” she added a moment later when the sound of steady hoofbeats resounded over the path below. She glanced down uneasily, unsure if the soldiers had managed to piece together her hasty escape plan, but found no one on the path. Not even the merest hint of the soldiers who had been spread across the road. “Uh-”

“As I said before, my friend went back to take care of the problem.” Marcus smiled and offered his arm to the young woman, quite content to lead her further into the forest before revealing the rest of his plan. “You see, all that you’ve done was create a disturbance in George’s plan. A ripple, if you will, in his designs to align the kingdoms against Snow White and her Charming Prince. But, you’ve done precisely what the Queen wanted you to.” The last was said with a distinct twinkle in his eye and broad grin upon his face. 

Emma narrowed her eyes in response. If this was one of Regina’s plans to screw with her and get Henry back, then she was going to- 

Do absolutely nothing, her traitorous mind supplied rather unhelpfully. If she had remained behind at the castle to persuade her mother to send the bluejays or whatever, she still might have ended up on the winding trail through the trees in search of her son’s other mother. 

“And how do you know that?” 

“I have a certain friend who is a wonderful gossip.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing even remotely related to the show. All I've got is a half-trained puppy, car, and a laptop with a chewed up cord.

There might have been a bit too much exaggeration by way of her hope that Regina would welcome the savior into her home with open arms, Emma thought as her seemingly trustworthy companion slammed his hand down on her shoulder and forced her to kneel on the harsh stone floor, blindfolded from the world around her. Black cloth covered her eyes, voiding the garish display of tapestries, silver, and gold that made up the Queen’s throne room, and shackles clapped her hands together. It would have been a welcomed sight, that of the room, over the sheer darkness that took over her senses, heightening some while dampening others to the point of panic. 

Emma struggled against the hold on her shoulder, fighting to rise to her feet and meet her fate face on; like a hero, Henry’s white knight, the savior from the Evil Queen’s curse, but the hand remained and a harsh whisper told her to remain down for her own good. Submission had never been her style nor her preference. She squirmed under the unseen scrutiny of another person when the unmistakable sound of staccato footsteps assaulted her ears. “Please,” she whispered in a barely recognizable voice. The urge to plead for leniency, freedom, mercy overran every other reaction from her body as adrenaline flooded her system. 

“What have I told you about strays, Miss Lucas?” 

“I think you’ll like this one, Regina, and really, she’s not a stray.” 

Heels clicked against the stone and Emma cringed at the familiar scent of perfume so specific to only one person. She had expected to meet the former mayor head-to-head, eye-to-eye, not nose-to-knee while blindfolded like some tragic kidnapping victim. No, not even tragic as she had willingly followed her captor, grateful to be saved from her other captors, in a grotesque display of compliance and loyalty to the man who saved her from wandering the woods unguided. The blindfold had been unexpected and quite troublesome, though, moments after Marcus snapped the previously unseen shackles around her wrists. Emma blinked harshly to keep the tears at bay as she considered she might have traded her head from one monarch to another, all in the failed desire to ensure her son was safe. Seconds later, her head was bent back roughly, neck exposed. 

“Not a stray? She’s covered in mud, dear,” Regina muttered, fingers dancing over the front of the black linen to trace the features hidden beneath. “Please don’t tell me your last stray decided to pick up his own pet. Really, I cannot keep housing all of the pathetic creatures you want to bring here. Eventually, I am going to run out of rooms.” 

“You’ll thank me in a minute, once you see who I managed to find in the woods.”

Ruby the traitor, Emma thought helplessly as another set of hands braced themselves on her shoulders. At least she was alive and not pieced together on someone’s floor as a decorative rug; Granny would be pleased to know her granddaughter had escaped that fate, provided Emma was released from the dark prison she found herself in. The blindfold was plucked away from her face and she focused her eyes on the person she had been seeking. 

“You found a Princess for me, Ruby, how droll.” Regina stood tall and backed away from the blonde woman with a scowl across her face. In what she would consider simple elegance of black silk and leather, the Queen appraised her newest acquisition with a critical eye. The savior was much thinner than she had been in Storybrooke, more defeated looking than she had ever been seen there, and far too much like a terrified dog about to be whipped for his misdeeds. 

“Regina-” 

The hand on her shoulder tightened in warning, and Emma slowly dropped her head from its raised position. With considerable effort, she forced her body to relax, to not appear so damn scared in the queen’s presence. It was only Regina, the scary-as-hell mayor from Storybrooke and the same woman who had been absolutely petrified when their son had been stuck in the mine with Archie; only the woman who had poisoned an apple turnover in efforts to rid herself of her son’s birthmother; only the woman who had been on her knees in front of another queen and refused to beg for mercy. 

“No,” Regina countered, waving a hand to the tall man eager to prove himself. “Let her speak. I’ll assume for now that she didn’t run away from the comforts Snow White could offer her without good reason.” 

“Henry,” Emma replied heavily, tears speckling through her vision against her will. She could stand to be on her knees before the Evil Queen, even face whatever punishments were swirling through the dark-haired woman’s mind in retaliation for her imprisonment by her prisoner’s mother. “King George wants to-”

The Queen raised her hand to ward off the rest of the statement. “I already know what that idiot thinks he’ll do. Wage war against Snow White and her Prince Charming, a fool’s errand, no matter how many he can line up behind him. As a strategist, he’s never been much more than a little boy playing at being a soldier.” 

“He said that the people wouldn’t accept Henry as a prince.” Emma felt the shackles release from behind her back, freeing her hands from their confines. On shaky feet, she stood and regarded Regina with a thankful look. “And they really wouldn’t accept me, not that I want to be a princess.” 

“You’re awful at it, dear. How many hours did you make it in the Forest before you were captured?” 

“Less than ten minutes.” An approximation but it wouldn’t do her any favors to lie when Marcus had already glanced at her knowingly. If he could be trusted, then he and Ruby had been trailing her from the second she and Pony popped over the fence separating the fields from the rest of the forest. “I, uh, got your gift; Pony, that is, and then I sort of lost him.”

“You lost my horse? How on earth do you lose a horse in your possession for less than a day, Miss Swan?!” 

There were no warm fuzzy thoughts rolling through her mind that would make the angry glare aimed in her direction by the Evil Queen any less potent. Emma recoiled at the sight of the Queen on those dangerous heels spin in her direction. Her eyes betrayed her and darted upwards over the black leather that encased shapely legs to the silk draped loosely over the other woman’s torso. Queen of the Leather Pants, her brain supplied unhelpfully as if it shouldn’t be concentrated on more important, more head-preserving things. “In my defense-”

“No defense, Miss Swan. I knew I should have sent someone with more experience than that child-”

“He did what you wanted him to,” Emma defended, recalling the nameless boy with ease. His lanky frame, cocky voice and body position, the way he refused to back down from his convictions even when bolted between the two guards as they escorted him to the castle. “I didn’t want to wait for you to contact me, so I took Pony and made a run for it.” 

A dark brow quirked. “Pony? Do you happen to mean Cervantes?” 

“Cer-who?” 

“The horse, Miss Swan.” Regina scowled at the thought of her precious stallion being reduced to the likes of some children’s mount by the sheriff. “I should have known better than for you to go against your nature and prove me wrong.” 

Emma frowned. Had she just been insulted? It had always been hard to tell whether Regina’s comments were meant to sting or inform others of traits she admired. The blonde had a feeling that this was not one of the times when the statement should be confused for a compliment of any sort. Still, she preferred not being in shackles and blindfolded from the world around her. “It’s not like I lost him on purpose. I was surrounded by a bunch of armor-wearing jackasses which, by the way, is sort of your fault.”

“My fault? How is your ineptness my fault?” 

“Jackass number one told me I was supposed to be some present to you from George; some kind of gift. Is it your birthday or something?” 

The Queen smiled softly in response. “No, dear, it’s not my birthday. I believe you were meant to appeal to my better side when that idiot chose to make another plea to align our forces against your mother. You were, I suppose, an engagement present.” 

Ew. Her mind betrayed her with the singular response of ‘ew,’ a rather childish reaction to such news that...no, that was definitely disgusting. Emma shuddered. She eyeballed the queen warily, unsure of how serious she was about the engagement business- the Evil Queen and King George, lord of the creepy. Who else would deliver the living, breathing child of an enemy as an engagement gift? “You’re not...I mean, that’s sort of counterproductive to saving Henry, right?” 

Regina smirked and laid her hand on the poor blonde’s shoulder. The shudder rippled through the fabrics draped over the younger woman’s shoulder and ricocheted into her own hand, forcing an exaggerated smirk to emerge over her lips. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s counterproductive to my plans, sheriff. Rather, I think it might be the ticket to ensuring Henry is handed to me without effort on my behalf, at least no more than I’ve already expended.” 

“That’s-”

“The most expeditious way to unite two kingdoms together, dear.” 

“You would really marry this guy for Henry’s safety?” She adamantly refused to add ‘and for more power’ to the end of the statement. 

The brunette shrugged carelessly as she drew Emma from the room and away from prying eyes, particularly those of the former waitress and her newest beau. In the hallway, she focused dark eyes on the savior, scrutinizing for telltale signs of a liar; a traitor. “I’ve already married a king for much less than Henry’s continued safety before, Miss Swan. You can rest your fears, my dear; I won’t be selling myself off to that vulgar man, no matter what shiny promises he might make. Doing so would ensure my son would never gain recognition as the rightful heir of the throne, and I would lose whatever influence I’ve managed to accumulate here.” 

“Huh?”

“Have you not realized how little control a Queen actually possesses here? As one, you are the property of your husband, an extension of the King but never as powerful as him. Snow was the exception to that rule, it seems, with her put-upon Prince by her side. It would serve, though, that she would pick a prince with nothing behind the title; a simple shepherd.” The pair strode past elegantly decorated rooms, heels clicking against the floors as they ventured to the inner sanctum of Regina’s maze of riches. “The repression of oneself in obedience to the king is a dastardly business, dear; one I have no desire to repeat, especially to a weak man like George who would buy heirs to fill his courts.” 

Emma squirmed against the thought of being sold off like cattle, bargained to the highest bidder. Never more had she been so grateful to be deemed as “undesirable” to the higher nobility. Obedience and compliance had never been on her list of virtuous traits. “What about Henry?”

“I’m doing this for Henry. It would be foolish to assume that George would keep his promises once he holds control of my troops.”

“No, I meant, how are you going to protect Henry? Snow- my mother seems pretty sure that they can take on whatever George and everyone else will throw at them.” 

The doors opposite the pair burst open at the flick of the brunette’s wrist, brooking no argument from Emma on which way she was supposed to go. The bedroom was expansive, decorated in light creams and taupes rather than the black that seemed standard in the Evil Queen’s dwelling. It was soft, serene. 

Regina turned on her heel when they were fully in the room and stared at her visitor with an incredulous gaze. “Snow and the rest of her idiots will fall if she continues to believe in the innocence of a black and white world. I’m sure Granny has already alluded to the potential dangers they face from opposing troops.”

“There are holes in the northern walls,” Emma offered. 

“I’m well aware of where the weaknesses are,” the brunette responded flatly, almost disappointed. “I created many of them the last time I engaged in battle with them, and others will continue to prey on those areas if they continue to neglect them. George will likely offer Maleficent whatever she desires for the promise of the troops that dwell near the Forbidden Fortress and Midas will ride with whoever possesses the greatest chance of victory.” 

“They’ll surround them,” the blonde concluded as she recalled the war room in her parent’s castle; the pieces squared around them in varying colors, “and there’s no where to run from there. Regina, you’ve got to-”

A sharp chuckle cut off the princess’s pleading words. “I don’t need to do anything, as I’m sure you’ve already considered. I could wait here until the royal family, your family, is captured and then deal for Henry’s release while the rest of you are subjected to whatever heinous deaths George deems fit.” Regina grinned broadly. “My only concern, Princess, is the safety of my son. The rest of them can meet their fates as they once wanted me to meet mine. Perhaps George will be open to suggestions for how to rid himself of the irritants that are Snow White and her precious Prince- she once offered me a dozen arrows to the heart.” 

“Is it ever going to end? This goddamn feud between the two of you.” Emma clenched her hands at her sides at the sheer madness that had become her life. She didn’t want to be caught between the unwavering hatred that spun between the women, and she damn sure didn’t want her son stuck in the middle between their careless accusations and dismissals. “This is life or death, Regina!” 

“I’m well aware of that, Miss Swan,” Regina spat, fire blazing in her dark eyes. “Was it not I who was forced to meet the eyes of my son while guards held me in place on the floor to be ridiculed? Was it not I who waited in the depths of that hellacious dungeon waiting and begging for death to be swift and merciful instead of dragged out by the promise of continued torture?” 

In a hushed voice, Emma offered, “I’m sorry,” to the infuriated woman, as rightfully as she could given the circumstances. There were harsh crimes on both sides of the fence, no one person innocent of the crimes perpetrated upon them by another, but at some point the desire for retribution needed to be quenched or quelled before those around them lost their lives in the zest for retaliation. “But isn’t Henry more important than whatever it is between you two? Does he deserve to have to pay for your hatred?” 

“You’re asking me to willingly submit myself to the child who participated in the events that killed my fiancé, the very same woman who tried to have me executed-”

“I heard she pardoned you, instead. Maybe you could extend the same offer to her this time? Before more innocent people are killed here.” Emma took a chance and laid her hand against Regina’s exposed forearm, rubbing lightly at the soft skin. “I’m asking you to consider the possibility of making the first step towards reconciliation, or at least tolerance, if only for Henry’s sake.” 

Regina closed her eyes and focused on everything in the room that was not the blonde’s hand on her arm. “You’ve made your case for Henry’s safety, but what about your own? Henry was not the only target in George’s attempts to claim the throne. He will gladly destroy you in order to amass enough power to control the majority of the Enchanted Forest. What is your life worth to you?” 

“Henry first,” she corrected quietly, “then we can talk about me. Though, I’m not opposed if you want to keep me alive too.” 

“You’ve managed to surprise me, Emma.” 

The blonde grinned. “And you finally learned my name, Your Majesty.” 

“I’ve always been aware of your name, dear. I only choose to familiarize myself with those I deem worthy of such an intimacy,” Regina responded easily as she moved about the room collecting various items. “For that, you can sleep in here until we can formulate a suitable plan that meets both of our needs.” 

“I get to sleep here, in this room?” It was bigger than Mary Margaret’s apartment plus some, and the thrill of being able to have a stable place to sleep at night still caused considerable giddiness to swell in her chest. Remnants of sleeping wherever seemed less in the way as a child, most likely. 

“Later, anyway. First, you need to bathe and get out of those clothes,” the brunette pointed to the stack of breeches and shirts piled on the bed she had gathered earlier. “You can change into those once you’re finished and meet me in the dining hall.” She moved to leave but was caught by the sharp sting of the savior’s fingernails digging into her forearm, nearly breaking through the skin with the pressure applied by the blonde woman. 

“Could you...could you stay? I don’t really want to be alone right now and I don’t know how to work the medieval bath tubs you’ve got going on here,” Emma explained brokenly. It was a hazardous request to ask of the woman who always seemed to be alone in Storybrooke, whether by choice or circumstance. 

Regina nodded a moment later and gestured into the adjoining room, busying herself with filling the massive tub with water conjured by magic as the white knight stripped naked. Her eyes closed when her task was completed, well aware that it would take mere seconds for the intoxicating scents of lavender and vanilla to draw the princess under the cover of the water. 

“Thank you,” came the grateful reply. “For more than the bath. Um, thank you for not sending me down to the dungeons or killing me or something.” 

Dark eyes leveled on the younger woman. “There was no reason to hold you prisoner once I ascertained you were not a threat to me, dear, and I’m certainly not going to make you listen to the silence down there if we’re meant to achieve the same goal. I’ll need you strong for Henry, not maddened by the voices in your head.” 

“Is that what happened to you? Did you start hearing voices?” 

A sharp chuckle. “Certainly not. Though I did spend a handful of time conversing with Rumplestiltskin’s son while I was down there. I might have considered that punishment enough had he not been so willingly to make promises in exchange for mercy should I be able to offer it one day. There were others, too, that confided in me and allowed the same from myself. One guard, in particular, showed considerable mercy when he allowed me the freedom to walk unimpeded by chains at night. I might have gone mad, otherwise.” She took a deep breath. “I never truly wanted you dead, Emma, but I never wanted to lose my son, either, so certain concessions had to be made.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You should finish up in there,” Regina said after several minutes of silence accompanied by a disturbing lack of splashing from the blonde in the massive bathtub. She might have once thought that Emma would be more like their son in that regard, in constant movement to once place or another with no time to stop and be still. In Storybrooke, there hadn’t been one moment Regina could recall when the sheriff was not nose-deep into something or other, usually involving the former mayor and poorly contrived schemes. But, here, the blonde woman appeared as still as one of the many statues that littered the palace. 

The soft swirl of water erupted into the silence of the room as Emma scrubbed at the mud accumulated on her body from her unexpected journey through the woods. A soft plunk followed the subtle shift of water from front to back of the tub as the blonde indulged in the soaps provided by the Queen. 

“I’ve left clothing on the bed for you when you’re done and-” 

“Could you not leave?” Emma interrupted. “I mean, leave the room when I’m ready to get out but your castle doesn’t really come with maps and whatnot. Pretty sure none of your guards are going to be willing to show me to any room other than the dungeons.” 

Regina smirked lightly as she rose from her place near the bathtub, alternating her gaze from the floor to the top of the savior’s head. “I suppose I could wait for you outside of the door, if only to keep you from roaming around my home unsupervised. It would do me no good for you to accidentally fall out a window or some such.” 

The sheriff’s eyes widened in response to the possibility that someone could actually fall out of a window in any accidental fashion. It certainly didn’t look like the Queen meant to imply that by “fall” she might have intended “pushed.” “I’d really like to not fall out of a window,” she muttered as she rose from the tepid water turned brown by the dirt washed from her skin. She scrambled for a long moment, searching for something to provide covering until she could reach the clothing on the bed. The same clothing Regina had left on the other side of the massive bedroom. 

With a roll of her eyes, Regina collected the breeches and loose-fitting shirt and forced them into the savior’s hands. It was amusing, she thought, to have someone else in the palace besides the guards who rarely spoke unless spoken to and Ruby with her many stray villagers, the majority of which feared the wrath of the Evil Queen and were only too eager to remain out of sight. It only served to heighten her amusement that it was Snow White’s daughter who came so willingly into the presence of the Evil Queen. “Those should fit you, dear, unless, of course, you’ve managed to overindulge yourself on the many feasts your parents have thrown in your honor.”

“Not so much,” came the predictable response. The weight loss was noticeable, especially on the woman’s already toned frame. “I can’t say I’m a fan of the food here. Chimera, really?” 

The brunette shuddered at the very thought of digesting something so vulgar, so...pedestrian. It was a meal only to be served when all other options had been thoroughly exhausted; even then, there were those who would starve rather than consume such an unpalatable beast. Of goat, lion, and serpent- the rumored offspring of Typhon and Echidna- it had long bested peasants plagued by the destructive fires emitted from its snout and thus, given ample time to breed and populate the land with more of its kind. A truly despicable creature she would happily sentence to death if found near her keep, provided her cooks were wise enough to keep the foul beast away from her tables. “Your mother would find something so repulsive-” 

“We didn’t actually eat it,” Emma interrupted with a quick snort. “Some of the dwarves brought it with them and left it on the table for anyone to try. They bargained it off one of the villages.” 

“Bargained?” Regina quirked a dark brow at the implication that anyone in their right mind would willingly trade for even a sample of the meat. “It is the dwarves, though, and that is explanation enough. I’m sure they’ve eaten worse in the mines.” 

“Doesn’t taste like chicken, does it?” The blonde asked once fully clothed. Her long fingers combed through the unruly hair atop her head in attempts to make right the knots that had collected. She shrugged at the mayor’s silent inquiry as to her actions. “It’s kind of hard to get any of the good shampoo here, and there isn’t a local supermarket around to even consider conditioner. Which, by the way, how do you do that thing with your hair here? The poofy thing. I can’t figure out what the equivalent to hair spray is here.” 

“In order to your inquiry: I’ve never had the displeasure to have tasted Chimera, and the hair is a direct result of a combination of magic and servants. Surely you had enough of them fuss over you along with your mother. Or did she accept that her darling little princess enjoyed cavorting in men’s breeches far more than silk and chiffon dresses?” 

In the middle of tucking the overly large shirt into the tight breeches, Emma scowled. There was nothing wrong with the Queen’s assessment, per say, of her less-than-stellar abilities to mold into anyone’s idea of the perfect princess, at least by the standards set forth upon her arrival. She was brash, uncontrollable, headstrong, and with too much continued influence from another world to even think about contorting herself into something she wasn’t familiar enough with to understand. “How did you do it? Turn into the Queen with all the dresses and the curtseying?” 

“I was born into a noble family,” the brunette replied flatly. “The dresses and curtseying have been common practice since I was a little girl. As for the other requirements, well, it does not take much for a terrified young woman to adapt to her new surroundings when thrust into the very center of the public eye. If I wanted to be taken seriously as the new Queen, I needed to exude power and control over any situation presented to me. I was not given the luxury of having a mother bail me out of trouble whenever I forgot my cues.” She turned on her heel to appraise the newly cleaned woman. “Presentable, dear.” A long beat. “For a man.” 

“You’re the one who gave me men’s pants and a shirt,” Emma reminded her with a cheeky grin, perched on the edge of the bathtub to tug on her riding boots. “Can’t say I’m going to complain, though, the dresses were really starting to kill me.” 

“Your mother has terrible fashion sense.” 

“Everything was pink,” the blonde agreed as she trudged after her companion, making note of the various turns they made and scenery passed on the way to the dining room. “Did you know there are chipmunks in the castle? I mean, who willingly lets woodland creatures into their house? And the birds-” 

Regina stopped suddenly, starling the woman at her side, and grimaced. “What are you doing, Miss Swan? We aren’t friends here. There is no small talk to be made between us.” 

“You-” Emma spun on her heel to face the other woman, confusion etched on her face as she scoured through the conversation to find where it had all changed. “We-”

“Yes,” Regina agreed with the unspoken statement, “I allowed myself to become overly familiar with you in a moment of weakness, but we must respect certain boundaries that-” 

“For God’s sakes, Regina! It’s not like we just screwed in the back of your car after Prom and now you’re having second thoughts. We had a friendly conversation about something other than Henry. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not going to kill you to treat me like a human being, I promise you.”

“A conversation with the person who managed to break my curse; the White Knight, Savior, child of Snow White and her dense Prince. I’ve already agreed to include you into my plans for acquiring Henry, but please don’t assume I care one iota about your own wellbeing.” The Queen set off at a brisk pace, uncaring if the other woman followed or not. The ease of which their conversation had emerged had been disconcerting; alarming in all the worst ways at the possibility she might come to care for the sheriff with time. “I don’t have friends here, Miss-”

“Emma,” the blonde corrected in a soft tone. “I wasn’t trying to pry, Regina, or anything else. I just thought since we were sort of teaming up here that we could try to be friendly to one another. What happened in Storybrooke, to Henry, I don’t want to happen again. If I have to watch my parents go war with half this damn forest, then I sure as hell don’t want to be fighting with you on top of it. It’s as simple as that, no ulterior motive.”

“Then, yes, dear, I did know your mother has a strange affinity for creatures of all shapes and sizes, except for horses. They never did appeal to her in the strictest sense. I suppose once you fall off a runaway, they do seem less appealing as playtime companions.” 

“She keeps flocks of bluebirds, too.” For a moment, Emma absorbed the silence that permeated the air between them; reveling in the calm the former mayor allowed in a way that always seemed forbidden in Storybrooke. The tension was gone from her body, no longer on edge from anxiety thinking about the mayor’s latest scheme to drive her out of town and thoroughly relaxed from the bath. “What are we going to do about the war? Snow-my mother, she refused to send for assistance, not by a crow anyway.” 

After a nod to the guards positioned at the entrance of the dining hall, the faceless men in black armor who worked tirelessly and largely without recognition, Regina gestured for the blonde to enter the room. “I would have likely ordered the poor animal shot down before it could deliver the message, dear. I’m not exactly known for my hospitality when it comes to matter to do with Snow White. If not for you storming in here, I might have let the kingdom burn to the ground provided Henry was returned to me unharmed.” She motioned to the seat to the right of the head of the table, a slight acknowledgment spared to the pair already in the room. “And Granny, of course. I did make a promise to Ruby that her grandmother would be left unharmed by my hand should it come to war.” 

The waitress smiled tightly in response. There were three other key players in the war that had yet to begin who could just as easily destroy the last living member of her family without so much as blinking. “Have I thanked you for that yet?” 

The Queen nodded slowly, delicately dropping into her chair at the head of the table. “Yes, dear, and then you started collecting villagers to repay me for my kindness,” she added with a smile. To be fair, she didn’t mind all of the servants accumulated by the wolf; the newest acquisition, the stableboy was a welcome member of her guard as he scurried around to please her every whim. He had, after all, found a Princess on his first day of service. 

“Why are you here, Ruby? I mean, here of all places,” Emma interjected as she stabbed the beef on her plate viciously. 

The waitress quirked a brow in response and cocked her head to the side. “Regina’s the only one who would offer a wolf sanctuary, Ems. Out there,” she indicated the window overlooking the kingdom, “I was prey. I was some sort of evil monster to be tracked down and slaughtered, but here I’m not. I was an equal to everyone save for Regina, and even she didn’t treat me like some animal to be put down when the time came.” 

“Snow-”

“Had other things to deal with, Emma. You can’t tell me you didn’t realize that there was a clear line between us- you were royal and I wasn’t. Nobility isn’t known for chatting it up with werewolves.” Ruby paused, contemplating her words. “That’s not why I left, though. I was chased out by some poachers after one of the village girls was found in the woods.” 

“That was not from you,” Regina interjected as she reclined in her seat, quietly observing her dinner guests. “She wasn’t killed by a wolf.” 

Ruby bobbed her head in agreement; she knew she hadn’t been responsible for the young girl’s death, not even remotely attributable to the circumstances that led to the search and ultimate discovery of the body. “Wasn’t enough to keep the farmers from chasing me out of town with pitchforks and torches,” she added wryly. 

Emma watched the interaction between the Queen and the werewolf, wondering exactly when they had become something that bordered on friendship. In Storybrooke, the twosome had very little to do with each other aside from the minimal contact at Granny’s. “Granny’s been worried about you. She, uh, didn’t know if you were alive or dead somewhere.” 

“I know,” the dark brunette woman replied, head lowered in shame at deserting her grandmother. “When the villagers came, I didn’t have time to run to find her. It was run or be killed and skinned in front of the cabin. So I ran for the northern border and hid out in the forest until I found my way here. I was hoping that wolf killings were still illegal here.” 

“Punishable by death,” Regina supplied. “You can thank Graham for that. The law was originally intended to cover only the wolves that traversed through this portion of the kingdom. It was mere convenience that werewolves were included into the agreement. The wolves might come to be useful should George declare war.” 

The blonde snorted in response. Hadn’t he already declared war? Or did there have to be some grand ceremony to officially hand over soldiers to the grave makers? “You said you had a plan.” 

“No, I said that we would devise a plan that suited both of our goals. My original plan was to watch Snow’s precious castle burn and fall in ruins while my guard made their way into the palace to retrieve Henry. It would have been easy enough to rise to the throne once more when Maleficent fell under my sword and George howled in agony when his troops were flanked by my own.” 

“Holy shit.” She had almost forgotten that she had willingly sought out the Evil Queen, not the Disney version, who waged war and collected hearts throughout her reign. 

“Obviously your presence has altered my plan,” Regina continued, seemingly unaware of the internal struggle that struck her dinner guest. “No doubt the shepherd king and his precious wife will be focused on my doorstep before long due to your absence from the palace, which means I will not be allowed the luxury to sit back and watch their destruction from afar.”

“Uh, sorry?” 

The Queen quirked a manicured brow in response. 

“Maybe we could make that plan Z? You know, when everything else goes wrong, you can storm in and go all Evil Queen on everyone’s asses.” 

“How very eloquent, dear,” Regina huffed. The sacrifices she would make for the savior were becoming tedious, especially the newfound strength of the younger woman now that she no longer faced the prospects of death. “I don’t suppose you’ve thought of a battle plan? Perhaps something with rainbows and puppies?” 

“Not exactly rainbows and puppies, but I was thinking you guys could, maybe, sign a truce or something. You could combine armies and attack George.” 

A harsh chuckle resounded from down the table as Marcus threw down his silverware in order to belt out his amusement more fully. The lanky stableboy leaned forward to catch the eye of the princess, and pointed towards her chest. “Do you honestly believe that a truce could be signed? After everything that has transpired, the evils on both sides. Men are already being struck down on both sides for claiming allegiance to the other. Yesterday, a man was beheaded in a small town that borders the kingdoms for his part in a plot to free a prisoner; for showing an ounce of kindness, he was tried as a traitor. Not that there was much of a trial. A Queen’s word is law, is it not? How many more must fall before you understand, Princess, that this is not the world you know?” 

“I get that,” Emma howled, slamming her fist on the table. The elegant silverware that lay on either side of her plate rattled, crashing against the plateful of food, and echoing throughout the stone-lined room. “But it doesn’t need to be like that. There has to be a way to bring you two together without blood being spilled, more blood. So what the hell are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? I can’t leave Henry there and I know you can’t, Regina, so what’s your masterful plan to rescue him without setting fire to half the damn forest?” 

Regina sat straight in her chair, fists clenched along the arms as she watched the verbal battle ensue between the stableboy and princess. He was adamant, as a constant surveyor to the chaos that rocked the towns along the borders, and she was eager for change, accustomed to another world full of different laws. Blood would be spilt either way, had already been, but the savior was correct: they could not keeping going the way they were. Eventually, one of them would lose more than the men who served them. “Quiet,” she demanded softly. “I believe it may be a combination of your arguments rather than the individual that will serve to bring my son to me while dealing the least amount of bloodshed. Snow will not allow me to encroach on her territory, nor will I allow the merest hint of her near mine. However, I need more information about George’s intentions before I command any troops into battle unknown.”

“Regina-”

“No, Emma. I’m agreeing to lay my grudges against your parents aside to protect Henry, but I will not agree to march to my certain death by approaching them like a fool. If your mother were interested in a truce, she would have sent word. It’s time Snow White learns what happens when her precious friends fail to heed her call.” She lifted her fork and speared a piece of meat, drawing the succulent beef to her lips. “Don’t look so panicked, dear. I never said I would let them die; I merely said it wouldn’t be at my hand if they do. You made appeals for Henry’s life and I’ve made concessions to allow you to keep yours, but you never pleaded on behalf of your parents.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-explicit mentions of rape- stop reading immediately if this bothers you or is a trigger!

“You are clinically insane,” Emma said in a low voice, eyes wide at the thought rambling through her mind that Regina might actually be crazy enough to argue semantics when there were people’s lives on the line. “What is it? Schizophrenia? Multiple personalities? Sociopathy?” 

A dark bout of laughter filled the stale air between the dinner guests; a harsh, almost melodic sound that served to stiffen their spines in anticipation of what was to follow. “Such big words from a woman who would have been beheaded or imprisoned for the rest of your life if not for my generosity,” Regina replied calmly, arms braced against the arms of her chair as she smiled at her son’s birthmother. Such an innocent believer in all things positively good when she was nothing more than a common thief. 

“Generosity? Is that what you’re calling it?” 

“You aren’t in the dungeons, dear, nor are you mounted on George’s wall with the other beasts he’s managed to acquire over the years, so, yes, I would consider that generosity. You might believe that you serve a larger purpose here than you actually do. Certainly, I need you to assuage Henry when the time comes that I am not in fact evil, but until that point I could keep you locked in the dungeons below.” 

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, tugging nervously at the laces that lined the sides of her borrowed shirt. “I wasn’t talking about me,” she replied quietly, addressing her dinner plate more than the stone-cold former mayor beside her, “and I don’t think you’re completely evil. If you were, you would have already killed Snow White ten times over instead of playing with her like a cat and mouse.” It was strange how her surroundings had begun to merge over the short time she had been witness to the happenings in Regina’s home as opposed to the time spent with her parents and Henry. The silence of the rooms, the sheer amount of effort to ensure decorum was observed, everything was very nearly the same, save for the players involved. 

Not for the first time, she wished Henry hadn’t run away from home to find her, that he had left her to her lonely life in Boston with a solitary cupcake and dreams that her son was living a happy life with his parents. “I just don’t know how you can say that you won’t kill them yourself, but you also won’t lift a finger to help them. That’s messed up, Regina.”

“I want my son back, Miss Swan. You would do well to not confuse certain allowances made on my part with anything other than what they are. I will afford whatever I can to ensure my son and, by extension, you are protected for his continued happiness, but I will not extend the same luxury to the child who destroyed my life, no matter the cost.”

“She blabbed your secret, I get it, but does that really mean she should die because of something she did when she was, what, Henry’s age? Would you sentence Henry to death if he did the same thing? Kid’s got a mouth on him.” 

The room stilled for a long period, not a sound uttered in retort or reply to the statement. Ruby’s head ducked down and dark eyes focused on the food set before her; Marcus, likewise, did the same, though intermittently he turned his attentions to the head of the table in deference until he could find an appropriate response if ever there was one. As many blood feuds went, there were few who knew the actual story between the two monarchs. The others, the soldiers, marched under orders without a second thought to the command, and the majority of villagers didn’t rightly care either way provided they were left alone to their lives. 

“It goes far further than that, Miss Swan, and I think you’ve already considered the possibilities of what made me the way I am.” The Queen rose from her seat, beckoning the savior to follow her path to the maze of hallways outside the dining room. In silence, they walked side-by-side until Regina lead them up a winding staircase to another wing of the palace. “Do you know what happens when a young bride marries a King thrice her age, Emma?” She asked as they entered through opulent doors into an elegantly dressed bedroom. “I know you aren’t stupid, my dear; the answer has obviously been plaguing you since you arrived here and you had to consider what might happen if your parents decided to use you as an enticement for a treaty with another kingdom.” When they reached the side of the bed, her hand struck upwards, wrapping long fingers around the blonde’s throat as the brunette advances quickly, shoving her prisoner onto the silk sheets. 

Emma swallowed hard against the pressure riding low on her throat, forcing her to scramble backwards onto the bed to avoid continued pressure. For Regina’s slight frame, the woman could move fast and without much exertion spent as Emma found herself pinned with her hands grasping ineffectually at the ones bound around her throat. “G-ge-”

“Quiet, dear,” Regina spat in response, positioning herself over the struggling woman. She braced her thighs inside of Emma’s struggling ones to center her weight and found it oddly dissatisfying at how easy it was to take control. With her right hand, she tugged on the shirt that concealed the sheriff’s upper body from her gaze, tearing it down to the other woman’s waist before reaching lower to the ties at her breeches. “Do you see now? When you’re at the mercy of the one person who could have you executed for noncompliance you’re more apt to yield. You could feasibly fight me off right now if you wanted; your body weight is more significant than my own, but do you know why you aren’t struggling as much as you should?” 

The queen straightened her body over the other woman, rather enjoying the power play in progress despite the lack of expected protest from her partner. “Do you know what I could do to you here? What indecencies I could force you to agree to in the shadows of this room? You could scream, but no one would ever come to your rescue. So, again, do you know why you aren’t struggling as much as you should?” 

Emma shook her head. Terror-filled eyes focused on the deep brown of her captor, silently willing her to take pity and end the lesson before it could go any further. There wasn’t any more she needed to learn to understand what led to Regina’s She had considered what might have happened between Snow’s father and his new bride back in Storybrooke when she happened upon the story in Henry’s book regarding the first meeting between the two. She forced herself to relax into the hand molded around her throat. 

“You aren’t fighting because you know I won’t do it. Not everyone has that luxury, though.” Regina sat back on her haunches, releasing the blonde’s throat as she did so, and observed her would-be victim. “Your precious mother subjected me to that life, filled with riches and a husband who regularly demanded and took his rights whether or not I consented to his advances, so she could have her perfect life with her father and a glorified babysitter. I won’t help her now because she refused to open her eyes back then and see the pain she caused. That child, even when grown, was blind to the world around her as long as she had her precious Prince Charming to look forward to.” 

“I could have ripped you from limb to limb, torn you apart, forced my way into your body, and no one would have come, dear. When you reside with the King, you serve at his pleasure; that’s what you precious mother subjected to me to because she couldn’t keep her promise.” She extended her hand to help the princess into a sitting position and ran her fingers over the light indentations at the younger woman’s throat, lingering over the noticeable thumb print along the side of the pale skin. “Those will heal soon enough on their own, otherwise I would offer to use magical means to rid you of the evidence.”

Emma cleared her throat a couple of times, proof that her vocal cords would likely still function despite the assault. It could have been worse, her mind supplied; Regina could have torn her apart and made her scream in agony until some unlucky servant came in to pick up the pieces left behind and nary a word would be uttered against the queen. “That’s why you killed him, the King.” 

“Had him killed, and that was only part of my reasoning. My other reasons were far more selfish than I care to admit. By that point, I had tired of waiting in the shadows, invisible to everyone, until I was meant to serve some purpose- as wife, surrogate mother, or, rarely enough, as the queen. When Leo- the King found the genie and offered him refuge at the palace, I took advantage of Sidney’s infatuation with me and enlisted his help.”

“Sidney? Like, reporter Sidney?” 

“Have you never wondered about my mirrors? Unlike the Disney edition, I never asked it who was the fairest of them all as Sidney was quite forthcoming about who he thought held that title. Even after he wished himself into the mirror, he never stopped admiring me for all the wrong reasons. But he became a dear consultant of mine; moronic at times, utterly frustrating at others but he remained true to his word that his deepest desire was to look upon my face for always. He became quite useful to me.” 

“In a creepy sort of way,” Emma amended in remembrance of the way Sidney sought Regina out in Storybrooke, looking far more like a lost puppy out for a pat on the head than he had any right. It made sense now, his desire to fold to the mayor’s every desire, if he had been in love with her for well over twenty-eight years even without any sort of indication she might feel the same way about him someday. 

“Beggars can’t be choosers, can they?” She splayed her hands against the dark maroon sheets, tan fingers dancing over the cool silk. “I haven’t been in this room since the night before the king died; the last time I was asked to prove my loyalty to that bastard.” 

“You were all victims in some way, weren’t you? No one is entirely innocent,” Emma mused. Regina had held prisoner numerous times in various fashions, Snow had been chased out of the only home she had ever known by a woman who was supposed to be her mother, Red was a victim of circumstance and factors out of her control, and none of them knew how to let go of the past to fight a common evil. 

Dark eyes met blue-green. “That is the reason I’m willing to let go of my grievances with your mother. I don’t want Henry dragged into the middle of anymore of this. For whatever it’s worth, I want him to remain the innocent child, as innocent he can be knowing the woman who adopted him once cast curses and ripped hearts from their owner’s bodies. I never intended the curse to bring us back here; in fact, I never wanted to come back here again. I wanted a life outside of magic.” 

“It was your curse,” Emma argued, “if you didn’t know it would bring us back here, then why did you enact it in the first place if you wanted to get away from magic? There must have been some slight chance that I would break it eventually or something would.” 

“Not my curse. As you’ve eloquently stated, I merely enacted it to serve my own purposes. It’s creator was the only one who could possibly know what would happen should it be broken, and he is currently locked in a magical cage like a rabid beast.” 

“Rumplestiltskin? He made the curse?” Emma had always known there was something more to the creepy pawn shop owner, but Rumplestiltskin? Wasn’t he the fairy tale character who made deals for babies and spun gold from straw? At least the Gold-thing made sense. 

“Indeed,” the Queen stated as she rose from the bed which had played such a prominent part in many of her worst nightmares over the years. “Though I suppose you would argue that he was a victim of circumstance as well and should be relieved from his confines? Would the dear savior like to pardon everyone in this land for their past crimes?”

The sheriff thought for a long moment, silence a welcomed friend after the events already transpired between herself and the mayor. “Do you know what his story was?” 

Regina shook her head in the negative as she stared out the window overlooking the courtyard below. Guards moved swiftly and with purpose over the stone walk, the occasional voice rising to the height of the open window. How often had she looked over the same scene during her first reign over the kingdom she had killed for? Too many times to count. “He’s been around for ages. I doubt anyone besides Rumplestiltskin knows the story of that twisted imp’s origins.” She spun on her heel to address the blonde, a sad smile lingering over her lips. “What would you like me to say here, Emma? Did you want hollow apologies or false promises?” 

“I don’t know,” Emma admitted quietly, wrapping her arms around her knees. She tucked her body in on itself, making herself smaller under the hard gaze of the mayor. “I guess I want you to say that you’re going to ride in to the rescue for everyone, play the hero because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. Like it or not, you’re my only hope here. My parents are convinced that they can defeat everyone with True Love, and I’m not entirely convinced of that. I don’t want to pin my hopes that they’ll be able to get out of danger this time, and I really don’t want Henry caught in the middle of it. Besides me, I think you might be the only other person who might want Henry safe.” 

“Might? I want my son back, Emma, there’s no questions about that. Out there, I can’t protect him as well as I could here and it terrifies me to think of what happen if I’m too late.” She took a seat on the edge of the bed, forcing her eyes to remain locked on Emma’s. “Do you not think it kills me to know that he’s in danger because of things I did in the past? That if I hadn’t cast the curse, hadn’t done the things I did back then-”

“He wouldn’t exist,” Emma interrupted quickly. “If you hadn’t cast the curse, I would have been raised a princess, which means I wouldn’t gotten knocked up at eighteen in the back of a stolen Bug. I really doubt I would have tried to steal a car from Henry’s father here if you hadn’t done what you did.” 

“As you’ve said, everyone is a victim here,” Regina reiterated in a harsh whisper. “How far would you have me go to protect your family? Would you like me to kill George myself? Feel his blood run down the hilt of my sword, watch the life drain from his eyes as he collapses in agony? Perhaps you would rather I tear his heart out with my bare hand and crush it to protect your dear, foolish parents from their overinflated faith in themselves. Shall I become Snow White’s personal savior before I release myself to her desires? Would you shed a tear should I fall under the weight of the executioner’s axe? We might all be victims but we’ve all also been executioners in our own right.” 

The sheriff swallowed at the frightful images the queen’s words inspired. Could she really ask Regina to darken her heart anymore than it already was for the sake of someone else? Someone besides Henry, she reminded herself. Wouldn’t that make her a murderer as well? “No outright attacks on them, but do whatever you need to do to protect Henry from all this crap.” 

“I’ve already promised as much, Emma.”

“Then that’s all I need.” 

Regina clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in reprimand for time wasted. “We could have avoided all of this, dear, if you hadn’t implied I was a sociopath who killed for pleasure and spurned my generosity.” 

“Yeah, but I would have thought you were just being a bitch,” Emma retorted lightly, suddenly nauseated at the thought of remaining on the bed where Regina’s horrors occurred. She shuffled to the edge, perching dangerous close to the brunette, and offered her hand. “Would it be too cheesy to say I believe in you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can I ask you to never try to choke me out again? ‘cause I’ve got to tell you, it’s not a pleasant experience, lady. You are much stronger than you look.” The sheriff flexed her open hand against her throat, gauging possible damage from the harsh contact. It could have been worse, she reminded herself; Regina might not have stopped with the threat of further violence. 

A dark brow quirked at the compliment. “Only if you promise not to annoy me again.” 

“That was you annoyed? I’d hate to see you pissed off. Oh, wait, you send people to Maine when you’re mad, don’t you? Maybe I should tick you off so you’ll send us back.” 

Regina chuckled darkly. “I’ve also been known to rip out a few hearts in my day. Granted, not as many as my mother, but I managed to hold my own. You should remember that, Princess.” 

“You were a bad ass, I get it, but now you’re a bad ass on my side of things. You know, in Henry’s book that might actually make you good now,” the blonde cajoled, singsonging the last bit of her statement. She sobered quickly enough. “Any plans on how to get Henry out and away from ground zero?” 

“That depends on what you know about your parents plans for war. If the two idiots focus themselves anywhere other than their own land and heads, then the timeline will be shorter than my plan will allow for and, unfortunately, there’s still the issue of your disappearance.” She cocked her head to the side. “Though, you have made several enemies here and in Storybrooke, so perhaps there’s hope that Snow is gullible enough to believe you were snatched by someone else. She always did choose to ignore what was right before her eyes.” 

Emma frowned. “Could you, maybe, stop insulting my mother? I know you despise her and whatnot but she’s still my mother.”

“You’ll have to indulge me, dear. I did spend twenty-eight years taunting your mother in Storybrooke with the fact that she couldn’t remember why I hated her and several more here when she was on the run. Some habits are hard to break.” 

“Do you-” the blonde broached, unsure of how to ask the question that had been plaguing her for some time, “Do you know why George is picking now? He could have attacked before the curse or right when we arrived, but he waited- why?” 

“He’s power hungry, which makes him one of the most dangerous enemies, but I cannot answer why he chose now of all times. I can only concentrate on what happens next and determine which of his pawns he’s going to move first to remove your parents from power and you and Henry from succession.” For a moment there was nothing but quiet between the two woman, a tentative truce awakening between them in the hopes of deferring blood spilt to another day. “I should have mentioned before that it’s not only the kingdoms here he might reach out to. There are other, more powerful allies, out there who might desire a stake in the Enchanted Forest.”


	9. Chapter 9

“More powerful? There’s someone more powerful than George, Maleficent, and you?” Emma inquired as she perched alongside the queen, nervously toying with the hem of her now-righted shirt. She wanted to emphasize the and you but felt compelled to hold her tongue by some unseen force; maybe she was growing up in that regard in the past couple of hours. The temporary feeling of being helpless, completely vulnerable had passed rather quickly once she ascertained the brunette’s intentions with her ‘lesson.’ Still, the possibility of more danger, more enemies to come for her head was not a pleasant revelation. Who could be more terrifying than the (not-so) Evil Queen? “Who? Why? What do you mean others who might want into the Enchanted Forest?” 

“Have you never picked up a history book, or did the school system you bounced into not teach what occurs when a regent power changes the line of succession?” Regina’s word were uttered with an undercurrent of bite as the Queen squirmed lightly at the intrusion of space from her companion. She ignored the savior’s question, filing them away for another day. 

The blonde rolled her eyes at the crack against her education; it was to be expected. She had long come to the conclusion that if Regina ever stopped insulting her on a regular basis, then there would be cause for concern and outright panic. “American system, remember? Not really important to know what happens when crazy queens try to kill their husband’s offspring. Besides, I didn’t really pay attention in history. It’s in the past, right? So not really applicable to the present.” 

“Perhaps you should have paid more attention. You might have found your transition here more pleasant if you had,” the brunette replied, quirking a dark brow in response. There were, it seemed, no bounds to the dear sheriff’s lack of proper education, by her standards. “There are powerful allies in this world and others who chose to align themselves with my rule after Leopold’s death, and they might find themselves inclined to do so again should the need arise. Contrary to the king’s belief, many of the people in his kingdom continued to suffer though the royal family flourished. I couldn’t say whether or not I was a worse fate than he, or even Snow White, but I was different and that might have been enough to persuade other monarchs to align themselves to my way of thinking.” 

Emma chose to ignore the last statement on sole principle that she refused to call Regina a sociopath again after a brief introduction into what horrors the queen’s life had been constructed from. Different might be just the word to describe whatever had gone on during her rule; massacres, exiles, murders, her mind supplied unhelpfully. “So, what happens when a regent changes the line of succession?” She had a fairly vague idea of what might happen, which most notably included her mother’s exclusion from Regina’s ideas of who the nobility should consist of. 

“Ideally, for what it’s worth, the crown should have passed to your mother when she came of age after the king’s death. I merely acted as a regent until that point, a placeholder if you will. When she turned eighteen, I chose to announce myself as the new Queen, surpassing her, and changed the line of succession; some might even say I stole the throne from her when I forced her out of the palace. Disregarding the period when I was exiled from the kingdom after she returned, it could be reasoned that Henry would stand in as a the new prince from my line,” Regina explained half-heartedly. Her motions were staggered, halted as she informed the princess of the minor details most were apt to forget for the sake of loyalty to the new Queen. “There are still those who believe me to be the true Queen to the throne, not your mother, and that is likely why they protest your presence. Although, it could very well be your lack of fashion sense or aggravating personality.” 

“Great.” Emma slung her head into her palms and scowled at the floor. The part of her that wanted to anger Regina to no end until the former mayor were forced to curse the entire land back to Maine reared its ugly head, prodding and poking at her thoughts until they centered around one central fact: “People want me dead because I’m Snow White’s daughter. That’s really screwed up.” 

“I agree.” 

“But why Henry? He’s- and don’t take this wrong- half yours. If George wants you back on the throne, why go after Henry too? Wouldn’t that be better for you, a built-in heir to the throne?” 

The brunette dipped her head low over her chest before she sought out the blue-green eyes of the savior. Secrets fluttered between the two women, unfettered and left for the wilds to do with what they will. All of her carefully constructed barriers, built in the days when she was subjected to Leopold’s advances and her own self-loathing, seemed to crumble just a little around the edges, and for a moment Regina allowed herself to be comfortable with that fact. 

“You just said it, dear. He’s only half mine, and he carries Snow White’s blood in his veins. For whatever his reason, George appears to despise your parents more than I do right now, and that includes their grandson. It’s a fairly big if, dear, that George’s intentions are to allow me back on the throne. He could very well want to extinguish your line and my own in one fell swoop to claim the throne as his own.” Regina stood and offered her hand, much in the way Emma offered hers earlier, to her companion, straining under the weight of the savior a moment later when she, too, rose from her seat. “Which means you need to be prepared for battle, otherwise my generous offer to let you live might be in vain.”

“Um, I was sort of thinking that this was more of a you-battle thing than a me-battle thing. I don’t really do swords or magical creatures or-”

“Instead of focusing on all the things you don’t do, could we focus on what I need you to do? I don’t need to worry about you being your rather inept self should we be forced into battle, sheriff,” Regina interrupted with a smirk. She dropped the blonde’s hand when they reached the barrier of the door and flexed her fingers, feeling the sheer emptiness against her palm. “You’ve already fought a dragon, have you not? Fought with a sword?” 

Emma growled, eyes wide. “Because you dropped me into the basement without telling me what was down there.”

“Would you have gone otherwise?” 

‘Hell no’ raged at the tip of her tongue, but at the end of the day she knew she would have gone down the rickety elevator all the same to save Henry from the sleeping curse. Though, she might have forced the brunette down with her after recruiting Ruby or someone else to man the controls up top. It would be fair that the Queen would have to face her prisoner after twenty-eight years instead of hiding up above where it was safe from everything but Rumplestiltskin. “I had my gun there,” Emma argued hotly, “and it didn’t make the trip with us here. At least, not that I know of. Any chance Gold set up a pawn shop here where I could bargain for it back?” 

“You’ll have a sword here,” Regina countered, ignoring the blonde’s arguments for her precious revolver. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was worthless here without a lifetime supply of ammunition. Not even the alchemists would be able to research and produce the required ammunition for the sheriff’s prized toy in the time alotted. The Enchanted Forest had never moved to that type of technology, still thoroughly stuck in a time when clean bath water was a luxury many were deprived. Flushing toilets was enough of a reason to curse the land back to Maine, save for the main requirement of the curse- she couldn’t, wouldn’t tear the heart from another she loved. That would have to be someone else’s price paid.“I suggest you learn how to use it, properly this time.” 

The savior shook her head from side to side. One bad experience with a sword and a dragon was more than enough for her. After the past couple of days, all she wanted was a reprieve from all things medieval and Enchanted Forest-like. She wanted indoor plumbing, long, luxurious baths, and a chance to rest her feet for more than ten minutes. “Not today, please. Regina, I’ve had a really shitty week here already. I’ve been threatened with death, nearly tossed off a horse, manhandled by a bunch of guards, blindfolded, and then you tried to choke me out- I need to eat the rest of my dinner and then sleep, not try to learn how to fight with a sword. Besides, I suck at it. I barely managed to kill Maleficent or wound her, I guess, since she’s apparently back.” 

Regina sighed in response but allowed Emma to walk beside her as she led the way back to the dinning room. Perhaps her sheriff didn’t need to be trained in the skill of sword fighting on her first day in the palace; without an accurate timeline or sense of what George had planned, she wanted the savior skilled in as many defensive maneuvers as possible before the time came when she would be forced to use them. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to allow you to finish your dinner. It is excellent tonight.” 

“No chimera,” Emma chirped happily. Without warning, she turned and braced her body against Regina’s, forcing them against the wall. Her lips brushed the Queen’s for the barest hint of a second before she stepped back and waited for the screaming sure to ensue. “Sorry, I just-

“Stress, I assume.”

The blonde nodded slowly. In truth, she had no idea what possessed her to even want to kiss the feisty brunette woman, aside from the fact that she really, really wanted to, but she wasn’t regretful of the action as long as she was not rebuked for it. “Yeah, stress. Almost died a couple of times this week.” There was a psychological name for it, the sudden impulse to kiss your son’s adoptive mother and the secondary urge to do it again, she was sure of it and without Archie’s knowledge and extensive research, it wasn’t worth dwelling on further. “And, a thank you, you know, for not tossing me in the dungeon or strangling me up there.” 

“Hmm. Do you make it a habit to kiss those who rescue you?” Regina asked before she strode out of the room, leaving Emma to contemplate the answer to the question. 

Yes, yes she might actually be compelled to kiss those around her who manage to save her life. Years ago, she had done it with Neal, entered into a relationship with the thief after he lied to a police officer. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to do it again with the brunette woman. Emma scrambled after the Queen, stubbing her toes on every other stair as she slipped down them with haste. “It’s not like I did just because-”

“A combination of stress and thankfulness, then, Emma.”

“No, I wanted to...look, I don’t know what I wanted other than to kiss you. I did it because I wanted to, not because of some screwed up complex or something,” the blonde argued, frantically devising arguments in her favor. “It’s-”

“Not something you need to concern yourself with, dear,” Regina interrupted, exasperation dripping through her voice. “It’s over and done with now.” 

She might have said a word in protest but the doors to the dinning room loomed before them and Regina wore a no arguments brooked expression. Emma followed the Queen’s footsteps, discontent by the sheer lack of progress made between them. It was a kiss, an insignificant little thing that she desperately wanted to try again, just to see if there were any sparks that weren’t part of her fear of being turned away. Maybe it was the comfort factor, finding ground with someone who offered their home and security in a time of need, but maybe it was something else entirely. 

Stress. 

Emma took her seat at Regina’s side, concentrating fully on the succulent beef drenched in thick gravy. It might not be a burger and fries from Granny’s but it was better than that Chimera stuff. She turned a grateful eye on Ruby, at once thankful there was a known friend. Despite the trickery used to blindfold her in the forest, she had been exceedingly happy to see her dark-haired friend had survived her run through the woods. To find the woman was chased from her home by villagers was disheartening, though. “Where’ve you been?” 

“Around,” Ruby supplied with a sly grin. “I keep mostly to the palace if I can. The less people see me in the villages, the happier they are. Even with the bans, I’m still not really popular here.” 

“Not many people like knowing the pretty girl carrying a basketful of flowers on Sunday morning through the market is also the wolf responsible for tearing apart their livestock three nights a month,” Marcus added in a dry tone as he speared more meat from the center of the table alongside the heaped piles already on his plate. “That, and the children scare easily when told stories of the Big Bad Wolf at bedtime. It used to terrify my brother so much so that he refused to sleep near a window for fear the wolf might snatch him in his sleep.” 

“Is he still afraid of the wolf?” Emma inquired as she looked pointedly at the wolf in question. “Henry told me he used to have nightmares of the boogeyman but they stopped when he was eight because Regina scared them all away one night with stories about what she would do if they came back to bother him.” She cast a soft smile in the Queen’s direction that went unanswered.

Marcus scowled heavily and concentrated on his food. “I would say to ask him but he doesn’t seem to be here now. Last I heard he was studying under the tutelage of the Queen, preparing for the day when he might join the nobility.” 

“He’s quite brilliant in the way of politics,” Regina interjected, recalling the enthusiasm featured on the boy’s face when he was first brought to the palace. “His strengths lie there and, of course, working with the horses. I’ve never seen a better rider for his age.” 

“Uh, is that the kid you sent with Pony?” 

Dark eyes rolled. “Cervantes, and yes that was Ian who accompanied him. I thought he might be best suited to carry my request, but clearly you are more stubborn than I thought.” 

Emma reclined heavily into the chair, blowing out rough and ragged breaths. “He was dragged away by the guards right before I made the decision to run. He told me everything happened as it should, like he knew where the guards were going to take him. I didn’t know what to do to make them stop.” 

“You!” Marcus hollered as he rose from his chair and advanced towards the Queen. “You told my father he would be safe! Then you send him to be tried a traitor all for the sake of your son, your own will!” Beside her chair, he stopped and looked down imploringly, silently begging her to say something to the contrary of his accusations. “Did you know he would be dragged to the dungeons?”

“I knew there was a possibility that he might be questioned and yes, brought to the dungeons, but I had hoped Snow would release a boy once she found him to be worthless of any useful information. He knows nothing of value to her other than what she’s already guessed or been told,” Regina replied calmly in between bites of beef. “If I know her, then she won’t have the heart to sentence a child to the dungeons.” 

“What if she does,” Emma whispered, folding on the edge of her chair to listen in to the conversation more fully. “What if she decides the risk of letting him go isn’t worth it? Are you going to protect him, too? When we get Henry, we could detour down and pick up the kid too.”

The Queen scowled in response. “Of course, dear. Why don’t we rescue the entire kingdom and bring them here? Just as Miss Lucas seems to enjoy doing, you could rescue half the population as your own personal strays to play with when the time is right. Let’s factor that into the plan!” 

“The plan you still haven’t clued me in on? That plan? Because you seem to enjoy doing all the talking, Regina, when it suits you and then clamming up when it doesn’t,” the blonde accused across the table more to the point of the kiss than any plan of action. 

“I don’t have a plan yet, Miss Swan, and I do not think we need to speak about things better left unsaid. What’s done is done, and what’s left is to pick up the pieces and move from there.” She motioned Marcus back to his seat with a flick of her wrist. “I regret that Ian is no longer sitting to dinner with us and if it is possible, I will do my best to bring him back here. I, too, enjoyed his presence, but I refuse to make foolish promises until we know something more about the situation outside of these walls.” 

“What are-”

A hefty black bird squawked from the open window, awaiting invitation to the eating area; tied about its foot, a single piece of rolled parchment. 

Emma blinked at the curious creature who observed them with a critical eye. He bowed his head in acknowledgement of the dinner guests, beak ruffling sleek coal feathers. “That thing isn’t going to break into song, is it? ‘cause I’ve had enough with the squirrels, and the chipmunks, and the damn birds cooing and cawing over breakfast. I mean it, I’ll leave right now if it so much as-” 

In reply, Regina tapped a sharp heel against the blonde’s unprotected leg. “This isn’t one of your mother’s precious blue birds, so I would hope not, and you aren’t running anywhere, princess.” 

The bird landed gracefully in front of the Queen, a quick bow of it head in submission as it held out its leg for inspection. 

Emma sighed in realization that the animals of this world understood the rules better than her. She hadn’t even thought to kneel or curtsey before Regina, aside from the forced kneel she was subjected to. “What is it?”

“A note.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, etc. I borrowed a segment of a line from the show; points to anyone who can find it (not like I even bothered to try and hide it). Enjoy.

Emma scurried behind Regina, tripping over her own feet as she scrambled to pass through the magically closing doors in the Queen’s wake. Better to be closer to the eye of the storm than anywhere else, she reasoned, especially if that storm cloud chose to reveal what was in the precious note clamped tightly in her grasp. “Regina-”

“Hush!” 

The Storybrooke Savior hushed like a good hound dog, trailing dutifully behind with only the click-clack of Regina’s heels on the stone floors indication she was doing something more than taking a stroll about the palace after dinner. Her half-eaten dinner, she scoffed silently, left behind when Her Royal Highness decided to stalk away from the table without a word to her dinner companions, only Emma willing to follow blindly. With a look of resignation firmly plastered over her face, Emma begrudgingly accepted that if she wanted a hint as to what sent the prickly Queen off she was going to have to brave the winding staircase. 

She climbed, and climbed, and climbed some more; all the while wondering how Regina managed to stalk up the stairs without so much as blinking or breathing heavy. “Regina-”

“Did I not tell you to shush? Emma, quiet!” 

At the top of the stairs, Emma huffed loudly, greedily sucking in oxygen. Maybe it was the events of the day that had her winded so badly, but she was willing to bet there was some magic going on with the brunette for her to be so relaxed after their trek upwards. She was in better shape than the woman who sat at a desk everyday for the past twenty-eight years, yet Emma was the one finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the blurry spots that made up her vision. “Um-”

The hand shot out and covered her mouth before the sheriff had time to think about the reasons why Regina would suddenly spin on her heel to face her. Short fingernails dug into her cheeks, nails imbedding themselves into her skin, forcing her to throw her weight back from the harsh grip. She clambered backwards and swiped ineffectually at the hand gripping her face with her hands. “Get off!” 

“Be quiet,” the brunette repeated, loosening her grip on the woman’s cheeks. “Stop swatting at my hand, Emma, and be quiet. I know it’s a hard concept for you to grasp but I need for you to try for just a few minutes.” 

“Why do I have to be quiet? What was in the note that spooked you?” Emma patted her cheeks, tracing the half-moon indents left there by the cranky monarch. What was with this woman and getting all up close and personal with her personal space? “Can you even spook an Evil Queen?” 

With a hand against the sheriff’s forearm, Regina led her to the open window and pointed out over the icy grounds. She watched quietly as the blonde attempted to scan over the inky spires that scrawled across the courtyards to the crystalline shimmer of snow and ice that littered the surrounding forest floors with a critical eye. “Just look, Emma. Let yourself see what’s there.” 

Emma followed the extended finger to a clump of forest previously unseen in her haste to find the reason she had been shushed. Squinting into the darkness of tightly clumped trees, she focused on the patches of dirt littering the ground. Her eyes widened. “Is that?” 

A simple ‘yes’ was all the response needed. 

“That’s...that’s really not good,” the blonde mumbled, eyes trained on the faint shimmer of metal barely visible through the mess of forest. “It’s not good, is it, Regina?” 

“Most certainly not.” Regina scowled at the intruders who dared to enter her lands. Resisting the urge to set the forest ablaze in efforts to rid herself of them, she took a step back from the window and concentrated on the savior instead. The poor woman was out of her element, so much so that there was no other explanation for the look of terror that flashed across her features in stark contrast to the usual confidence Regina normally associated with the sheriff. “As far as the crow flies,” she muttered under her breath.

“Huh?”

Regina held up the scrap of paper taken from the crow. “As far as the crow flies,” she repeated. “Without modern technology, we rely on old world technology to communicate. The average distance a crow will fly in one trip is roughly half a mile, which is all the warning we received for the arrival of our guest.” 

“Our guest? I don’t have guests, Regina. That’s more of a you-thing, again,” Emma replied, eyes firmly latched on the movement below. 

“You’ve already met, dear,” the brunette revealed carefully, admiring the look of confusion that fluttered across her companion’s face. So many expressions in so little time; Emma was certainly full of surprises when she wasn’t in control over her surroundings. 

“My mother?” 

Regina snorted derisively. “I’d have already alerted the guard to launch an attack if it were Snow White and her drunken dwarves pounding at my door. Try again, dear. I do believe you left quite the mark on this particular guest- permanent even.” 

“That’s not-”

“It is,” the Queen confirmed flatly, eyebrow arched in the direction of the caravan making its way towards the walls that separated them from the rest of the world. “The next time you set out to destroy someone, do it better. I sent you down to the basement for a reason, Miss Swan; to destroy Maleficent and save Henry’s life. You only managed to do one of those things.” 

“The more important of the two,” Emma argued in vain. True, she had fought a dragon; stabbed it, even, but no one had ever taught her to check it’s pulse or however one was supposed to ensure a dragon/fairy/witch thing was well and truly dead. Not even the mayor had been helpful enough to supply her with enough knowledge to destroy her so-called old friend. “It’s not like I had ever killed a dragon before, Regina.” 

“Cut off it’s head, dear. It’s a good strategy that generally works against every opponent, except an imp.” Regina chuckled at her own dry humor. “They’re notoriously hard to kill without the right weapon. But a dragon? Beheading usually works.” 

Of course, Emma thought sarcastically, because it’s just so easy to kill a fire-breathing dragon. “How many dragons have you killed?” 

A dark brow quirked in amusement. “None, dear. I am a Queen, after all; there are peasants and shepherds for that sort of dirty work.” 

“Sure,” the blonde replied easily, shuffling after the retreating form of her companion. The last thing she needed was to lose her guide in the middle of the maze of seemingly endless hallways. “You can blame yourself, then, for Maleficent still being alive and a dragon. Not a peasant or a shepherd, Regina. Emma doesn’t kill dragons.” 

“That is quite obvious, my dear, seeing as the dragon you were supposed to kill is making her way to my home,” Regina retorted as she swept down the final stairs that led away from the tower. She rolled her eyes at the sheriff’s simplistic explanation of why the problem of her old friend was still an unfortunate problem to be dealt with. ‘Emma doesn’t kill dragons.’ How cute. “You were the daughter of a shepherd,” she pointed out needlessly, “armed with his sword.” 

“Again, Emma doesn’t kill dragons.” 

“I, for one, am extremely thankful for that,” a new voice admitted from the depths of the shadows that swept through the Grand Hall. Amidst the vast emptiness, footsteps could be heard dancing along the floors, a harsh click clack that reminded them there were three in attendance. “She’s so pretty, my dear old friend,” the voice squeaked, giggling. “I knew you would take my advice and get a pet. So loyal, they are.” 

Regina rolled her eyes and cast a ball of fire across the room, illuminating the giggling sorceress hiding in the shadows of the room. Some people were so predictable. “I’d say it’s good to see you, Maleficent, but I’d be lying.” 

Maleficent pouted, emerging from her hiding spot along the wall. With a crazed smile, she glided forward, destination quite obvious. She giggled, a high pitched atrocity that threatened to split the ear drums of all present, as she slid towards the savior. With seduction rolling off her tongue, she purred, “So, so very pretty, Regina. The daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, now a pet of the Evil Queen- so very pretty, indeed. Tell me, old friend, is that why you sent her to destroy me? To prove herself worthy of her Queen?” 

“That’s fucking creepy,” Emma interjected. Compliments aside, Maleficent was much more tolerable when she was trying to actively kill in a dragon form than squealing like a school girl in the presence of a famous musician. “I’m no one’s pet, lady.” 

“So mouthy,” Maleficent continued. “Regina, tell me, is that a trait you prefer in your pets? I’ve always found it strange when they babble incessantly. Silent and compliant is what I prefer.” 

Really fucking creepy, Emma amended silently. No wonder Regina forced her to spend twenty-eight years in her other form while locked beneath the Storybrooke library. She didn’t even want to consider what ‘silent and compliant’ meant from the fairy/dragon thing in relation to Sleeping Beauty. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in the Disney version of her fairy tales. 

“Emma,” the brunette commanded quietly, voice barely breaking over the silence that filled the room; a single finger pointed to the ground. 

The blonde complied without question, shuffling against the stone until she faced the Queen. Thankful for the chance to look away from Maleficent’s crazed eyes, Emma focused on Regina in silent acceptance of whatever was to follow. She didn’t kill dragons, and she was the only one without a good handle on magic in the room, making her feel incredibly vulnerable. Brawling- she was good there, but it was unlikely the two sorceress’ would allow her the opportunity to get a running start at either one of them before they poof’d her to another dimension or something. 

Regina leaned forward, lips grazing the shell of the other woman’s ear as she spoke quietly. “I need you to follow my every instruction without question. Do you understand, Emma?” 

There wasn’t much time to do more than nod in response before Regina’s hand encircled the back of her neck and brought her even closer. Emma gasped at the feel of soft lips against her own, beckoning her even closer to the welcoming body that wound itself over her own. Somehow, somewhere in between the discovery of Maleficent in the room and being compared to nothing more than the equivalency of a neutered dog, Emma found herself welcomed into the embrace of Regina’s arms, as if they were the only two in the room and the circumstances were something far more reminiscent of a romantic movie than a tragic horror. 

She felt possessed; like a possession meant to be cherished and treasured by its owner, instead of the utter chaos she had felt in other, more secure situations with past lovers. In Regina’s tight embrace, Emma could almost forget that there was someone in the room who had looked at her in a downright predatory fashion, like she was nothing more than a piece of meat to be devoured. She could almost forget that it was all just an act meant to show ownership if she closed her eyes and allowed her body to sink into the sensations provoked by such an all-consuming claim. 

With a shove, Regina separated herself from the savior and stepped forward into view of her oldest friend. “The Princess is off-limits, my dear Maleficent. Is that understood?” 

“A shame, that, but understood,” Maleficent replied gracefully, extending an awful mocked curtesy to the Queen. She dipped low, enough to expose her already indecent décolletage to the two women, with a sickeningly sweet smile smeared across her features. 

“Tell your mountain men to go back to their caves,” Regina continued, scowling in response to the scandalous display from the witch. It was a play she had often played in her time; a display of seductive power to those who might be seen as weak links to whatever means she had wished to achieve. From seeing the one she had called her friend so willfully displayed, it was a revolting thought to see how brazen she must have looked before her would-be victims. Willing herself not to fidget or show any sign of weakness, she declared, “They have no business here.” 

Maleficent giggled again, baring her teeth in the direction of the savior. “Aren’t they? What will you do when George comes for your pet’s precious head, Regina? Will you tear him down to save her? What exactly would you do to save the daughter of your enemy and that precious little boy I’ve heard so much about? There was a time when you would have ripped his heart from his chest for even offering alliance.”

“Are you offering your services, dear? Or simply trying to play with my head?” 

“You’ve said before that I was your oldest friend, Regina. Despite our differences, I like you more than I like George, even if you do insist on keeping your toys to yourself.” The witch shuddered from some unknown source. “I’ve spent years in my fortress without company save for you, and I’m loathe to stand behind some ignorant fool who gets it in his mind to take over the entire Forest. We would both be dead as soon as he found himself out of uses for us.” 

Emma was almost impressed by the honesty that shone through in Maleficent’s eyes, minus the increasingly creepy glances the blonde witch kept directing her way. 

Regina appeared less than impressed but nodded her head ever so slightly to indicate her acceptance of the proffered alliance. “Fine.” A pause. “Emma, come.” 

Loyal as any good mutt would be, Emma followed without question, thankful to be leaving the presence of the creepy sorceress. There was something very off about the blonde witch and her strange giggle. Once they made it past the heavy doors and into the hall, she asked, “You’re just going to leave her there. Just a ‘fine’ and nothing else. What the hell is going on here, Regina?” 

“Keep walking,” came the low command as the brunette surged forward. “She won’t stay in the room for long. Eventually she will move out to tell her guard to rest in the stables for the evening before she finds an empty room to occupy.”

“Doesn’t answer my question. She just held up the bait for you to leap onto and you let it dangle without so much as blinking. Again, what the hell is going on here?” Emma swung in front of the Queen, effectively blocking her route to the stairs they had ventured up earlier. “The kissing thing I get. Maleficent likes to share and she’s not against blondes, but everything else? I’m lost. You turned her into a dragon and cursed her to live in the basement of the library for twenty-eight years, but somehow you’re still a better option than George. Just stop for two seconds and explain this to me, Regina.” 

Regina glared pointedly at the stairs behind the blonde, exasperated she could not continue on her way. “Could we continue this in private, dear? I’m not one to spill all of my secrets where big ears might overhear.” 

“Do we have to walk up the stairs again?” 

Seconds after the words ejected themselves from her mouth, Emma found herself standing in the room overlooking the forest. It was the same room from earlier; the shadows cast darker over the rich velvet that lined the windows and covered the bed. She closed her eyes against the dizziness that threatened to take over, altogether thankful Regina hadn’t taken to poof’ing her way around the castle all day. 

“I’m sorry for kissing you earlier,” Regina said quietly, so low her companion might not have heard the admission had she been focused on anything else in the room. “I didn’t see any other option once Maleficent made her intentions clear. I assure you, though, that I will do my best to keep you out of her sights from now on.”

“Yeah, I’m not sorry about the kiss,” Emma replied with a smile and a shrug. “As far as kisses go, it was probably in my top ten; you know, except for the crazy person watching us.”

“Be that as it may,” the brunette continued, disregarding the lighthearted tone behind the statement, “I’ll need you to sleep in here until she leaves. Once Maleficent decides she wants something, she treats it like precious gold until she finds a way to manipulate it into performing as she pleases. As for the rest, well, I’ve never been able to take the final step in destroying Maleficent myself, and she knows it. That fact alone makes me a better choice for her than George. She’s not interested in the outcome of the battle with your parents; in fact, she would rather stay in her keep at the Forbidden Fortress with her precious unicorn and other pets than enter into a pointless war with the Charming family, but George left her no other option but to pick a side from what I gathered.” 

“And the lady who trapped her as a dragon beneath a library is still better than the guy who would happily chop off her head,” Emma finished. 

“Precisely.” Dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t confuse Maleficent’s illness for a sign of weakness. If you become a target, she will break you down until you beg for the mercy of death. Think of her like a cobra, Miss Swan; docile until you provoke it.”

“Which means?” 

“Resist the urge to stick your nose into her business,” Regina replied easily, directing her companion to the opposite side of the bed as her. “Whatever genetic compulsion you possess to cause trouble where you don’t belong, resist it. Unfortunately, your propensity to seek out trouble and Maleficent’s tenacity to seek out what she wants, you’ll have to sleep where I can keep an eye on you.” 

“Buy a girl a drink first, Your Majesty. I’m not that easy.”

Regina pointed to the floor where purple smoke gave way to a bundle of blankets and pillows. “I meant on the floor, dear.”


	11. Chapter 11

Sometime in the middle of the night, Emma came to the conclusion that the floor was some sort of torture device created under some sadistic king’s reign with the intention of driving the savior absolutely batty. Even with the blankets and pillows so generously supplied by her captor, there was nothing to be done for the distinct lack of comfort provided by the floor. With a grunt and sharp growl, the blonde lunged upwards to the foot of the bed, thoroughly disgusted with herself for not protesting more when Regina left her on the floor, clambering for purchase on the ridiculously high thread count. For her own protection, the queen had said in that sarcastic tone of hers that never served to not set every nerve on edge. 

Emma sighed as she settled in between the cool sheets, thankful for the breeze that filtered through the opened windows but more so for the bundle of furs that rested on what she deemed her side of the bed. She curled up under the heavy weight of them, wiggling until she found a suitable position in which to finish out whatever hours were left in the night until Regina woke. 

“Get off.” 

“No,” the sheriff retorted angrily, clutching to the sheets and blankets as if she could physically retain her place on place on the bed. 

“That wasn’t a request, Miss Swan,” Regina said as she turned over to face the intruder who dared breach the sanctity of her bed. “I gave you a place to sleep; therefore, there is no reason for you to be up here.” 

“I’m not a dog, Regina. In case you haven’t noticed, most people don’t like to sleep on stone floors and I’m definitely one of them.” She burrowed deeper into the warmth, shrinking away from the glare of her companion. No wonder people lowered their gaze before the Queen; that look was nothing short of chilling. “Look, you told me I couldn’t sleep in the room- with a bed- you promised me earlier because Maleficent is all sorts of crazy and out to, I don’t know, corrupt me or whatever, so I don’t think it’s too much to ask to not sleep on the really uncomfortable floor.” 

With all the regality associated with her title, Regina sat up and leaned against the elaborate headboard, staring down at the nearly hidden form of her bedmate. “Corrupt you? I would say it’s a bit more than corruption Maleficent desires. She’s likely to destroy you, Miss Swan, with the merest flick of her wrist or to be completely cliche she could send you into an eternal slumber.” A sharp intake of breath. “But, I do suppose I could have offered you the foot of the bed-”

“Nope. You could have offered me whichever side of the bed you don’t normally sleep on,” Emma countered, blonde head peeking out from under the covers. Her fingers gingerly released their grip on the sheets as she allowed herself to become more comfortable in the fact that Regina had yet to cast her from her spot. “I think you owe me that much after today.” 

“I owe you? As if I prescribed an order to have you rescued from your capture after you took off like a bat from hell through the forest without regard to the consequences. Please, if not for Ms. Lucas’ strange predilection for those left discarded, you would be in a dungeon cell pleading for your head.” 

“You didn’t send Ruby to-” Get me, rescue me, pick me up. “I thought you-”

Regina chuckled darkly, eyebrow arched in amusement. “You thought I would go out of my way to rescue the daughter of my enemy? That I would place value on your life aside from the unfortunate circumstances of being a genetic contributor to my son? Hardly. I merely indulged in Ruby’s uncanny ability to bring in those most suited to my needs.” 

“But you-”

“Made the best of the circumstances, dear,” the brunette concluded with a self-satisfied smirk. “If what the wolf said is true, I would have gotten you one way or another. I happen to prefer this way over entertaining George and his bumbling band of idiots, but that doesn’t mean I owe you anything. It would, however, appear you owe me, though.” 

Emma leaned against the headboard, turning to face the former mayor. “Like hell I do, Regina. You tried to choke me, kissed me, and now threatened me all over again- I don’t owe you anything. And that’s bullshit that you don’t ‘value me’ or whatever. You had the opportunity to dump my ass off with Maleficent; instead, you kissed me, claimed me. So, unless you usually go around kissing women, shove it with the threats.” 

“Quite presumptuous, aren’t you? Be careful, Emma, or I might start to think you’ve been trying to wheedle your way into my bed for longer than tonight,” Regina warned. It was with some amusement she followed the quick line of doubt and shock that played over her companion’s features. “Or was that your plan all along? To run away from your dear parents and play poor, pathetic prisoner in my home, all the while planning and scheming your way into my bed? My embrace?” 

Emma rolled her eyes at the accusation. As if she had thought ahead to run away, get captured by George’s buffoons, find a way to be rescued and brought to Regina’s- all so she could share a bed with the bitch of a queen. “Not on your life, your majesty. If it weren’t for Henry, I would-”

“Be flat on your back under a prince or king, dear; silent as a lamb.” The brunette leaned forward and bared her teeth at the younger woman in an approximation of a sneer, the threat behind it not quite reaching her eyes. “Don’t bother with threats to the person who knows all about the horrors you would have faced and the secrets you keep. You’re a reject here, by your parents, the kingdom...everyone.” 

“My parents did not reject me!” 

“Of course not, dear. That’s why you felt compelled to run away from home and seek out your enemy’s help. I’m sure they treated you like the savior you are, or did they realize you’ve already served your purpose in breaking the curse?” For a moment, Regina looked almost ashamed at the words tumbling from her mouth. “You forget, Emma, that I know how power is displayed here. I may have treated like nothing more than a dog, letting you sleep on the floor, but that’s more attention than you’ve received by most people in a while, isn’t it?” 

Emma blanched at the assessment, willing it to be untrue. For the most part, it was; the parts where her parents had outright rejected her in any fashion of the word. The accusation was meant to sting, cut into the deep wounds she bore as a foster kid shuffled through the system; and, as an experienced manipulator, Regina had played on those weaknesses with ease. The other parts, the ones where she was seen as nothing more than the savior who had once broken the Evil Queen’s curse and returned the fairy tale characters to their rightful home, all true to the majority of the villagers she happened upon in her daily activities. 

“Are you done? Have you had your fun screwing with my head yet?” 

How had she lost complete control over the conversation? In few words they had gone from arguing about her continued sleeping space on the bed, to the details of her not-a-rescue, and into issues better left alone crammed down in her psyche. “I’m not sleeping on the floor,” Emma replied authoritatively, summoning all of the strength she had possessed before her world went topsy-turvy. Like Alice through the Looking Glass, her mind supplied. Except there was a strong possibility that Alice had actually gone through the Looking Glass here and wound up in the court of the Queen of Hearts with the Mad Hatter and the Cheshire Cat. The sheriff eyed the Queen suspiciously; was there another chapter to her story?

She should have paid more attention to Henry’s damned book. 

“I don’t suppose I would be a good hostess if I were to shove you back to your place on the floor,” Regina murmured softly, closing her eyes against the shallow light that flickered through the room. 

“So that’s settled? No more kicking me off beds, trying to choke me?” 

“I believe you forgot one of my offenses, dear.”

Emma squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly feeling entirely too warm underneath the various blankets surrounding her. “Already told you I didn’t mind that one,” she mumbled half-heartedly into the quiet of the night. It was entirely too quiet, she decided a minute later when Regina had yet to respond, without the familiar screeches and honks from downtown Boston traffic; even the serene sounds of birds chirping in the distance and trees swaying in the nightly breeze from Storybrooke would have been welcomed. In a small, fragile voice, she admitted, “I want to go back home.” 

“To your parents? Go. There’s nothing stopping you from leaving, Emma.” 

“Not to my parents. God, that still sounds weird.” She hunkered down against the headboard and scowled at the vast emptiness across the room; a stone wall, devoid of any trappings. “My parents are Prince Charming and Snow White. I’m stuck in Fairy Tale Land with the Evil Queen, and King George wants to murder me because I suck at being a princess. Oh, and Maleficent is fucking fit for the insane asylum, which, really, I’m starting to think I might join her there. So, yeah, I definitely don’t want to go back to my parents and their damned castle, of all things. I want to go back to Storybrooke, or at least somewhere where there’s a legal system and cheeseburgers and cars.” Emma pouted, mumbling, “I really want my Bug back-”

Regina chuckled, breaking through the blonde’s rant. “Are you quite finished, dear? Or shall I let you continue yammering on all night? I, too, want all of those things, with the exception of cheeseburgers and your dilapidated Bug. Do you think I like being back here? Back to the place I cursed myself out of for the chance at happiness? To know that I could fall prey to an attack by any number of sworn enemies and be executed for my numerous crimes? Hardly.” 

“So cast the curse again,” Emma supplied enthusiastically, very nearly bouncing herself off the bed in her exuberance to approve of the plan. It would fix everything; Henry would be safe, Regina would be the uptight, bitchy mayor, she would be the sheriff, and Maleficent would be trapped under the library until the end of time- it was perfect. “Curse us all back to Storybrooke.” 

“I can’t,” the brunette answered plainly after a moment of hesitation. “Even if I had the curse again to cast, I wouldn’t be able to supply the final ingredient needed- the heart of the thing I love most.” 

“Oh.” Realization dawned, then, that asking Regina to re-curse (was that a thing?) an entire land to Maine was not as simple a solution as she thought. Really, she should have paid more attention to Henry’s book before it poof’d itself into oblivion when the curse broke. But she knew the original curse had been enacted with the Evil Queen’s father’s heart, and now- Henry’s? Emma squirmed at the very thought of her son’s death. “Got any other plans?” 

“Besides flanking your parents’ army when they ride out to battle against George and storming through the gates to find Henry while they are otherwise occupied? No. I don’t have another plan.” Regina shook her head lightly and smirked. “At least not one you will approve of.” 

“Tell me. I don’t care what it is, even if it’s something completely crazy like summoning the White Rabbit and a legion of face cards to do your bidding.”

“Letting nature take its course,” the Queen admitted freely. “Provided Henry remains safe and sound, I’m inclined to let the entire Forest burn if that’s what it takes to end all of this. There’s a chance I won’t make a difference in the war against your parents, with all due thanks to Rumplestiltskin for ensuring their safety here. George, however, doesn’t have any sort of leash around his neck if he chooses to continue forward with his plans. He’ll charge into battle with whoever is foolish enough to accompany him for the sake of reclaiming what your father took from him.” 

That was it? Just sit back and relax, and what- watch the entire show from the balcony with a beer in one hand and a bucket of popcorn in the other? “Your plan is to do absolutely nothing. Great plan, Regina,” Emma replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the sheer lack of anything remotely helpful from the supposed master strategist. “That’s really, really helpful right now. You’re just going to let shit go down, no care to anyone else, as long as you get to sit all safe and pretty in your little prison out here.” 

“This isn’t my war, Emma. I’ve fought before and lost.” A sharp huff. “Until you’ve been shackled to a single post in the middle of the square with archers at the ready to end your life, you are in no position to judge what I will and will not do.” 

The failed execution. For the side of Good, the day had been a spectacular black mark against their record; the allowance of evil to continue to exist, and in Henry’s book it had been referred to as such. But to be sitting within inches of the person who should, by all accounts, be dead, it made the savior’s heart tug in sympathy for the woman. Emma reached out and patted the queen’s forearm in what she hoped was a comforting manner. “I think I understand,” she said quietly. 

“I don’t want your sympathy or pity, dear, and I certainly don’t need you to understand. All of the things Henry’s book said I did, I did them in order to attain my own happiness and find my revenge against Snow White. I became the monster Henry saw me as in Storybrooke, and for that, I probably should have been executed. But the person you need, that monster, I don’t know if I can be that again, not when Henry will despise me for it.” With a flick of her wrist, Regina removed the savior’s hand from her forearm. She braced her arms across her chest and faced her companion. With a dry, harsh mutter, she added, “I suppose it shouldn’t matter when he already hates me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Emma was quick to correct, hastily offering reassurances. “He was the one who convinced me to try to find you after Mom-Snow refused to ask for help. He might think everything is still one big fairy tale where everyone gets their happy ending, but he’s not blind to what’s happening around him. And he’s scared, Regina. The kid’s terrified you might not want to help him because of how he acted; like you’d choose not to love him because he wasn’t the perfect son.” 

“He never needed to worry I might not love him, that was never in question,” Regina replied. 

The savior nodded, not knowing what else to do. Should she offer comfort, open arms, or remain in her small sleeping space on the far side of the bed? If the former mayor’s response were not so potentially volatile, she might have already draped her arms around the other woman and murmured soft reassurances to the seemingly broken woman. Without a plan, they had nothing; without an alliance with a more powerful force, her parents were as good as defeated; without both of his mothers, Henry was lost. “Then take a chance on Snow and offer your help to her. Call it a blank slate between you two for Henry’s sake. You killing her, her killing you- it’s all pointless now if everyone else wants to kill you both. Maybe it’s time to let go.”

“That’s your plan, then. Did you happen to forget that I hate your mother and her insipid prince?” 

“More than you love Henry?” Emma quirked a brow in silent accusation. “You can’t tell me that you still hate her as much as when you cast the curse. You’ve had twenty-eight years to torment them, make them pay for their crimes, and all you’ve done was make her a school teacher, put him in a coma, and fail to pin a murder that never even happened on her. That’s pretty pathetic for the almighty Evil Queen if you ask me.” Taunt her, keep her going. She could see that she was losing Regina, as much as she fought against the very idea of doing anything for her step-daughter. “It’s the right thing to do; more importantly, Henry would want you to.” 

“Using Henry against me? That’s-” 

“Low? So was making me sleep on the floor, Regina. Asking you to make the first move, be the bigger person for the sake of your son? I’m only doing what Henry would if he were here right now. You might be convinced that you hate them, but there’s some little part of you that acknowledges if they or you die, Henry loses part of his family.” Emma took a deep breath, steeled by her newfound strength and confidence. “Whether you like it or not, we’re all family here, and family means-”

Regina snorted derisively. “Please, save the formulaic lecture about how family always finds each other.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I still own nothing related to the show or its affiliates.

Early morning dew still clung to the sharp blades of grass well below the towers of the castle when Emma awoke to an empty bedroom. The sheets beside her, once warmed by flesh, were chilled; an uncomfortable discovery when she had been expecting the sight of dark hair and the darker, almost sympathetic eyes from the night before. The blonde shifted until she could rest against the elaborately carved headboard, taking small comforts in the fireplace that had been left aglow on the far side of the room. 

At least Regina hadn’t left her to freeze in the middle of the night, she thought with a brief, sentimental smile. She had driven her point home- family doesn’t leave family behind, no matter the personal cost- and had come to understand some of the reasoning from the evasive queen. There had been death marked on both sides; tragedies marring the visages of both queens, but somehow the sins kept adding up, as did the body count. For all Regina was personally guilty for, she seemed earnest enough in wanting to preserve their son’s wellbeing at the sacrifice of old hatred. 

Emma forced herself to crawl from the warmth provided by the heavy blankets, thankful that Regina hadn’t been inclined to make her sleep the entire night on the floor. It was bad enough to feel the crick that popped in her spine from the short time she had been banished to the stone, but the pervasive thought of the floor for the entire night made her grateful she had demanded treatment suitable for a person, not a common mongrel. Another thing she had laid to rest the night before- the ability to claim herself as something other than a nuisance, one of Ruby’s strays, and secure a place of comfort for the night. As she dressed in clothing found in the far closet, found past the rows of elegant dresses that would make her look like nothing more than an expensive street whore, but somehow the Queen made regal, Emma considered where she might find Regina in the wide-spread castle. 

The throne room was an easy enough assumption, provided she could find someone willing to point her in the right direction- or, even better, lead her there by the hand as she felt compelled not to waste the day away searching the premises for the feisty brunette. The courtyard was another, then the stables, then somewhere in between. In some godforsaken room in the palace, the savior would find the Queen and demand more answers to questions even she did not have fully developed. 

Besides- We need to get Henry out and save my parents. And- If you could do all of that without killing anyone, or ripping out their hearts to control them like your personal marionettes. 

Emma tugged her second boot on, taking no more than a second to admire the feel of supple leather caressing along the cotton of her borrowed breeches. Coffee, in color, and barely worn, they fit like a glove to her curves- almost a decent substitute for her blue jeans. The shirt, she considered, to be finer than anything she would have had the opportunity to own in Storybrooke, besides the silk one borrowed and never returned from Henry and by way of Regina’s closet. 

She paused by the window on her way out of the room, scanning the fields for sign of life besides the cattle and horses that grazed there. Finding nothing, she continued on through the heavy wooden doors and past the first set of guards stationed outside the Queen’s bedchamber. They wouldn’t be of any help to her, she decided, by the blank expressions on their exposed faces. Funny, how they were left open and exposed while the others were forced to wear masks to conceal their identities. 

Emma gave them a slight nod in acknowledgement, not surprised when nothing was returned to her as she walked by them. She hadn’t been expecting much, not as the prisoner of the werewolf who had been allowed to live within the castle walls and find protection from its ruler. Outside the main set of halls adjacent to Regina’s room, she forwarded her search for either the Queen or a guard personable enough to give her a helpful hint as to where the brunette could have possibly disappeared to. 

Although, the Queen also happened to be an accomplished sorceress who could magically transport herself from room to room without ever pausing to use a door, so their help might not be very helpful. Emma conceded that fact and passed another set of guards, faces cloaked this time. 

Then, by the ornate door Regina had dragged her through hours before, Emma found a helpful eye and careless smile in the form of Storybrooke’s favorite waitress. “Ruby,” she called out, startling the young woman and her companion who lingered beside her. “Damn, am I glad to have found you.” 

Ruby smiled in return, only breaking the gesture when she was pulled into a tight, hearty embrace by the blonde woman. “Need to breathe,” the waitress reminded her gently as she pulled away. 

Emma braced her hands against her sides to keep from grabbing the tall brunette again. Their first interaction since her abduction from the forest had been met with tense reactions and intense conversation that had boiled into something akin to rage and disbelief. She wanted their second to be much more productive and friendly; she wanted...no, she needed to have that friend back from Storybrooke that she had found in Ruby. “I have missed you so much. With everything...everything that has happened, I think I needed to see someone from Storybrooke who didn’t turn into a complete loon when we popped up here.” 

The waitress chuckled a bit, bitingly harsh against the echoing stone walls, but still a happy enough sound all the same. It was as if nothing had changed, as though she hadn’t transformed back into the werewolf who terrorized villages three nights a month when her cape was missing, as if she wasn’t chased from her home by crazed villagers out for vengeance for a death that had not occurred by her hand. It was as if all that had changed was her clothing, and that was only in the sense that there was considerably more of it than booty shorts or leather pants and a near non-existent shirt. 

It occurred to Emma, then, that there were no dresses to be seen, besides those in closets, on any of the women here. With her mother, she had been shucked into one from nearly the first breath she had taken in the Enchanted Forest, but here, the women favored pants. It was almost as though...almost as though they were all prepared to go into battle at any moment and couldn’t afford the time to deal with petticoats and the like should they be attacked. She searched her friend’s body and found the telltale bulge of a knife near her tall boots and another nearly concealed at her hip by a dark shirt. “Have you seen Regina,” she finally inquired, forcibly looking anywhere but at the weaponry her friend sported. 

Ruby jerked her finger to indicate the ornate door behind her. “She went in about an hour ago, but don’t even think about following her, Emma. She wants to be alone right now.” 

Emma followed the brunette’s finger, already imagining the conflicted emotion sure to be raging across Regina’s face on the other side of the door. She had been intimated with the knowledge of what happened beyond the concealment of the walls there and felt nothing but remorse and sympathy for what must have pushed the Queen to willingly venture back. Her fingers brushed against her neck where faint bruises remained, lingering over the worst of them where Regina had sought to create and manipulate the pain. Idly, she wondered if it would compare at all to the memories surging through the former mayor to be brought to the place where she left all innocence behind. 

Her feet moved forward by their own accord, as though an invisible force were driving her every movement to further investigate the happenings beyond the door. From behind her, she could hear Ruby’s whispered warnings to remain out of business where she did not belong but she ignored it in favor of creeping closer to the place she both detested and needed. Regina had the answers she sought, but she also found herself wanting to comfort and offer a warm shoulder to cry on. 

Regina might have been the bane of her existence, but even Emma would admit that she needed the Queen as strong emotionally as Emma needed to be physically. She needed to know the plan residing in the lovely brunette’s head, and more so she needed to be able to act on it for the sake of their son if it were viable enough to put into action. 

Emma was impulsive, exemplified by the way her hand spun on the door handle, breaking through the final barrier between herself and the broken woman who had spoke distantly of her would-be execution. Whatever she was intending to find- that same broken woman weeping on the floor- she failed to see when she crossed over the threshold. Instead, she found Regina sitting on the edge of the bed, a mirror held in between her hands like a lifeline. 

“He won’t answer,” the Queen murmured softly. “I’ve tried to hours to find him, but he won’t answer.” 

There were so many ‘he’s’ that the sheriff could speculate but only one seemed important enough for Regina to voice between them. Henry. “My mother destroyed most of the mirrors,” she offered as she strode across the room to perch on the end of the bed. “She didn’t want any reminders of you there that would encourage him to go looking for you in the dungeon. She wanted him to forget that you were ever his mother and become the prince she needed him to become. Just like she needed to be something other than the brash, impulsive, ex-sheriff I am.” 

“You’re still the sheriff,” Regina offered with watery eyes. “Just, perhaps, now you’re acting in a slightly different capacity than you’re used to.” 

“Pretty crappy sheriff after the week I’ve had. I couldn’t even manage to land a hit on you when you tried to strangle me. At least in Storybrooke, I managed to leave you with a decent bruise.”

Regina sniffled inelegantly and rose to collect a handkerchief from the bureau near the bed. As she dabbed below her eyes, blotting out most of the damage done to her mascara, she focused her attention on the blonde woman casually lounging on the bed. “Have I apologized for that yet? Honestly, I expected you to put up more of a fight than you did.” 

Emma shook her head apologetically, for what sin she committed she wasn’t sure. “Have you tried all of the mirrors at my parents? I’m sure Henry would be smart enough to find something reflective to try and contact you with. He’s a really smart kid, you know,” she added cheekily in attempts to put a smile on the Queen’s face. 

“So I’ve been told before, and yes. I’ve tried the entire castle to no avail. What mirrors are available, he isn’t near, which leads me to believe that he is either being kept in a restricted area or he isn’t there at all.” 

“Restricted area?” 

The brunette reclaimed her seat on the bed and inclined her head. “The throne room, other rooms with tightened security around them. It’s what I would do to protect my loved ones if a threat emerged against them. Your mother would have gathered those closest to her and adjourned to a room that was highly inaccessible to invaders but able to provide flight should the need arise.”

Though she was not entirely sure she followed, Emma nodded her head in agreement. “And you know the layout of the castle, which doors lead where. Hidden passages and stuff.” 

“You, like Henry, watch too many spy movies if you think I’m going to divulge the hidden passages of my former summer home.” Regina’s lips quirked into the slightest smile, tearing away from the rampant emotion that had overcome her when Henry failed to answer her call. “But, yes, I do know the layout of the castle and which rooms will be occupied during certain points of invasion should it come to it. When I was newly married to Leopold, I was instructed through the corridors with the explicit demand to protect Snow White should we be invaded. I’m fairly sure she remembers the passages as well as I do.” 

Emma inclined her head and peered at the Queen through hooded eyes, admiring the sight before her. Even in the clutches of waiting for threats made to their son to be carried out, she couldn’t help but find the fire in Regina’s eye a delight to encounter. Her fingers, clutched at her sides, itched to reach out and offer physical comfort, knowing anything she might say would come out clumsy and altogether wrong. She was not a poet by any means, ill-adept in the methods and means of providing that special friendship, that relationship, to another person without throwing it to the waysides when it became inconvenient or too demanding. But now, she wanted to say the words that would make the mayor melt into her embrace; force the woman to bow down under the weight of emotion and collapse on a waiting shoulder. 

Her hand darted from her body almost instinctively, fingers grasping the slight weight of Regina’s wrist and rolling until they encircled it. “I’m with you on this. You know my terms and conditions and, other than that, I’m with you all the way. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it without question this time ‘cause, fuck it all, Regina, I can’t do it alone and neither can you.” 

Regina bowed her head to face the floor, at once admiring and recoiling from the memories that assaulted her. Of Henry as a baby crying to the ends of the night without stop because his new mother had little idea of what to do to soothe him; of Snow barging into her chambers at night because a nightmare kept the princess awake and she wanted her new friend to tell her a bedtime story full of love and white knights; of blonde sheriffs who had nothing better to do than drive around town compiling a list of her wrongdoings to present at the next town council meeting, all the while unaware she was being conspired against- all of the memories blocked by those of her mother selling her off like a horse at auction to a man twice her age who wanted a mother for his child and a broodmare for himself to provide more heirs; the look on Daniel’s face when his heart was torn from his body and crushed; the tip of the arrow aimed at her chest with only Snow White’s finger the deciding factor between life and death when they happened upon the village she had ordered to be destroyed without mercy. “I most certainly cannot do it alone,” she acknowledged softly, the words fluttering through the air without constraint. 

“Then maybe we can do it together, Regina. ‘Cause I might suck with a sword, but I’m pretty good with finding people. And I know you’re good at discovering ulterior motives, when you aren’t creating your own, of course, and I’m pretty sure the fact that you managed this long without being attacked proves that people are still fearful of whatever power you had back then. So, your plan, lay it on me.” 

As Regina explained her plan in excruciating detail, Emma archived the slight nuances that crossed over the Queen’s expression with each added turn and call to arms required for the plan to be a success by any means. She collected her thoughts, considering the ramifications if she interjected her own strategy planning into the collective thoughts that fluttered between them until she was sure she could justify what Regina wanted to do. “The wolves- Ruby already agreed to scout them? Isn’t that dangerous for her to be crossing into other kingdoms?”

“Miss Lucas has already assessed the potential risk of participating in requesting the wolves’ allegiance. As of this morning, she mentioned no qualms provided she be allowed an escort through the forest and the allowance to explore unmarked paths to ensure the quickest and safest passage. She and Marcus will leave this afternoon to scout the nearby wolf packs.” 

“Why use the wolves?” Emma asked, confused. 

“Because we’ll need the distraction in the outer villages to garner your mother’s attention while we proceed to flank from behind. Whatever forces she has, I cannot hope to equal without Maleficent in agreement. From her display last night, I’m not sure my dear friend is going to be entirely willing to hand over her mountain men to my control without a gift or favor of some sort.” 

The blonde shuddered at the thought of being near the sorceress again. As a dragon, Maleficent had been terrifying but she suspected there was something else entirely that lingered under the crazed obsession with her pets and those she deemed as such. “You’re not thinking-”

“No, dear. I’ve never been one to regift my presents.”


	13. Chapter 13

“So-” Emma kicked at the floor, rucking her booted feet against the plush rug at the foot of the bed. She leaned forward to scrutinize it further, realizing it might have been a bear or another creature at another time based on the thick, rich dark brown fur. That fact probably should have bothered more than it did. Either way, she was willing to bet it was warm enough to burrow into for the winter and never come out again, which was looking like an awfully good idea. “What are you going to do about Maleficent? I mean, you said you need her on board but I’m not loving the idea of being her ‘pet’ or whatever.” 

Regina clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shoulders breaking their rigid posture as she reclined back against her hands on the bed. “Don’t think of it as a compliment, Miss Swan. Maleficent might be entranced by you right nor but she would find herself bored within the month, and then you would find yourself fast asleep on a coffin in the middle of the woods until some hapless prince stumbled upon your body and fancied kissing something no better than a corpse.”

The blonde visibly startled, nearly falling off the bed in her shock at the proclamation. Suddenly the version of Sleeping Beauty she had watched on Mary Margaret’s couch during a sleepless night when she first arrived in Storybrooke seemed juvenile and incomplete. Well, as far as she knew, neither the cartoon version of the story nor Henry’s book ever told that particular version. She clutched at the bottom of her shirt, worrying the fabric, as she considered the words most able to express the sentiment, ‘don’t leave me alone with that crazy witch,’ without actually saying the words to the one person sure to take advantage of her vulnerable state. 

It was one thing to run a sword through a living, breathing dragon; it was another thing altogether to run a sword through a living, breathing person, no matter how off-putting they were. 

No matter how tough she might intimate herself to be, there was still a scared little girl buried somewhere deep within; the same one who feared not being good enough, which provided reasoning enough for those around her to leave without a second glance. 

“Have I completely scandalized you yet, dear?” 

The airy quality to Regina’s voice was momentarily disconcerting from such a formidable woman, but all Emma wanted to do was nod in response and burrow under the covers of the bed until Spring broke forth and the Kings and Queens had either killed each other off or had come to a rational conclusion that all the power in the world would not make them happy or content. “I’m not scandalized,” Emma iterated with a scowl. “I’m...just concerned about what you’re going to have to do to make her agree to go along with your plan.” 

“She’s my oldest, dearest friend,” the Queen muttered lowly, voice breaking near the end of her statement. Whether it was from sentimental thoughts about her friendship or anger from only having one friend in the world to stand by her side was unclear. 

“That’s really sad, Regina.”

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose it is.” The Queen shook her head, as though ridding herself of the memories of the distorted version of friendship in question, then she turned her body until she fully faced the blonde woman beside her, dark eyes shining. Changing the vein of the conversation, she asked, “Are you hungry, dear? I would daresay you haven’t been fed properly since you finagled your way into my bed last night.” 

She should protest on the grounds that it had been the brunette’s deafening silence at the sight of the black crow that had torn her away from her food, but Emma remained quiet. She merely nodded in response to the question before she clambered off the bed, thankful to be leaving the oppressively stale air in the room. The sheriff followed without much more sound than her boots against the stone floor until they reached the closed door. At which point, the blonde woman latched her fingers around the Queen’s palm, folding and fumbling to keep it there.

“What do you think you’re doing, Miss Swan?” 

Emma knew that voice and the accompanying look of dismay sure to be plastered across the brunette’s features, but her grip refused to loosen at the sight and sound of it. Like a child who begged Santa for a puppy for Christmas, with all the hope in the world to not be rejected but, buried deep within, the lingering trace of knowing in her blue-green eyes that the most likely response is her request will be denied. “I thought...with Maleficent and all-” Her free hand fluttered about her head, fingers wiggling to emphasize her point. 

No matter the consequences, the savior could not stand alone in the world without someone, something to hold onto. 

The brunette merely nodded halfway through the broken request for comfort and contact before she continued on her way. Her stilettos clicked lightly on the stone; her pace lacked its usual grace, impeded by the pressure on her right side from the blonde woman attached there and her less-than-carefully measured strides. Regina shoved at the door, suddenly impatient to leave the room that had once acted as her own personal prison, only to find herself confronted by a certain former waitress clutching her head and grunting. The weight on the door enough to allow her conclusion to the events prior to the unfortunate head injury. “Miss Lucas!”

Ruby nodded and waved one hand above her head (the one not clutching her bruised forehead) to ward off whatever lecture the Queen desired to present. “I didn’t hear anything,” she muttered as she bent at the waist to greet the floor, groaning and writhing in pure agony. Her head ached, much like during wolf’s time when her bones shifted into that of her canine form, and the sound of Regina’s voice only seemed to spur on the pounding sensation building behind her ears. “Not that I was really trying to anyway; not that it matters. Just wanted to make sure you were safe, and Emma-” 

Regina drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and repeated the process several more times before she felt ready and able to confront the younger woman and her eavesdropping companion without betraying her amusement. The stable boy, at least, had the decency to look sheepish and oddly defiant at being caught near the door she had left them beside earlier in the morning. The wolf, on the other hand, looked rather pitiful with a blossoming red mark marring her skin. “Are you still functional enough to scout the dens later today or do I have to assign one of your precious strays to do the job for me?” 

“I’ll be fine, Regina. It’s just a...really fucking hard door that slammed into my head, but I’ll be fine.” She paused for a long beat, silently begging the twin visages of the Queen to stop smirking in her direction. “Eventually.” The brunette shook her head one more time before attempting a grin, a pathetic mockery of what she had so easily plastered across her face in Storybrooke. Her fingers rubbed vicious circles over her temples, urging the pounding to desist.

Regina moved forward, aware of the presence hovering at her side, and placed her free hand above Ruby’s forehead. As a glimmer of purple emitted from her fingertips, she brought her hand lower until it caressed the younger woman’s forehead, the source of the pain. It was the childlike sense of amazement that stopped the flow of magic from her fingertips; the blissful sound of Emma’s gasp and, oddly enough, pleasant chuckle. “A meal, then, before you set out,” the Queen suggested in a way that made it sound more like an order than a question of intent; like they would be sent to the dungeons without supper if they chose not to break bread with her. 

Only when Emma felt her hand being tugged away from her body did she follow willingly, ignorant to the curious stares sent her way by the waitress and her stable boy. She had kissed a queen not long ago in front of a sorceress who wanted her for nothing more than a bed partner and prize, then she had slept in the same queen’s bed, surely any objections from anyone aside the three of them (and one should be excluded with just cause) were inconsequential. Let them judge her for hold a former enemy’s hand; let them stare at her for putting trust and faith in the one person left who could destroy her without much effort at all.

She found she didn’t much care for what they thought of her behavior; of their precious princess’ behavior. To face facts, she was the least likely candidate for the throne, anyway. Never had she cared for politics or the scheming that went along with such. No, she was more likely to lay all of her cards on the table from the get-go and improvise with the changing tides from there. It was better to leave the political aspects of this life to someone who had actually managed to make sense of them- Regina. 

The grey walls seemed to close in after the third or fourth turn away from the secluded bedroom, offering the illusion that they weren’t moving away from it all; merely circling around until the room became a ghostly reminder of their journey. It was only the tapestries and portraits of kings and queens long dead that reminded Emma of the fact that they were making progress through the castle- the haunting eyes of Regina’s predecessors watching and waiting for their Queen to stride by, leaving Emma to feel like the intruder among the visages of her ancestors. 

Some Princess or White Knight she was, Emma mused callously as she thumped her feet against the ground and followed Regina down the winding halls to the centermost of rooms. Couldn’t even stand straight before the kings and queens who had once roamed the halls with square shoulders and a rigid rule. She caught sight of herself in one of the numerous mirrors that dotted the walls in between the portraits and winced. There was nothing regal there, nothing royal, besides the defiant glimmer in her eyes, a harsh reminder of the faults of others from her days in various foster homes. 

“Yes, breakfast,” came Regina’s soothingly low voice, accompanied by the break in contact as the dark-haired woman released the fingers holding her palm hostage. “You should eat your fill now, dear,” she continued, breaking pattern to reach forward and collect several plates before any servant standing near the walls could think to move forward and perform their duties. “I don’t recall you having an aversion to beef, is that right?” 

For a moment, Emma thought the Queen might actually cut up her food for her and serve her like a young child, but then she caught sight of the blonde-haired witch in the doorway and simply nodded in agreement. “No. No aversion to beef. Too bad you haven’t perfected cheeseburgers.” 

“You ran off before we could finish our discussion, Regina. That was very rude of you,” Maleficent crooned as she glided to the nearest chair and draped herself over it. She took a long minute to tidy herself- the maroon dress and her hair, arranged in ringlets around the horned crown. 

“Was it, dear? I had thought our discussion was finished when I retired for the evening,” Regina replied easily, not breaking her concentration from assuring herself that her guests lacked for nothing. 

“It was. Thankfully, I understand.” The witch bared her teeth in an approximation of a smile as she ground down on an unfortunate piece of pork slathered in gravy. “I’m sure you were quite anxious to reacquaint yourself with your pet.”

Emma shivered at the title. “Still not anyone’s fucking pet, lady,” she interjected into the limited conversation, casting a sharp glance to Ruby. There was not much hope the snickering and less than subtle glances cast her way by the waitress would stop anytime soon, but the least she could do was warn against them. 

If Maleficent understood the slight for what it was, she refused to show it on her thoroughly unamused expression. “Of course not. Dearest Regina never learned the true meaning of keeping company with pets. It’s no wonder she felt compelled to cast the Dark Curse when-”

“Dammit! Do you ever shut the hell up?” Emma chucked her knife and fork from her hands, grimacing as the heavy metal collided with porcelain, and glared at the sorceress. “It’s no wonder Regina cursed you into spending twenty-eight years as a dragon; you’re less annoying as one, and that was trying to set me on fire. If I were her, I would have slaughtered you myself before I cast the curse to get the fuck out of here.” 

“Emma, please,” Regina started, then stopped herself short of demanding silence from the younger woman. In truth, she couldn’t find fault with the sheriff’s words, laced with profanity as they were. 

“Don’t tell me you never wanted to tell her where to shove it. Not when I’ve spent less than twenty-four hours with her and I sort of want her to turn back into a dragon so I can slay her again.” 

“As if you managed to do it effectively the first time around,” the witch muttered under her breath, focusing on a focal point somewhere between the pork on her plate and the fork in her hand. 

The savior scowled. It wasn’t as if she were well versed in dragon slaying the first time around, but Regina had set her straight since then- cut off it’s head, dear. 

“I thought you didn’t slay dragons, dear,” the Queen commented dryly. 

Emma considered it for a minute, trailing her eyes over to where Maleficent continued her meal in silence. “I’m rethinking that; maybe my rule doesn’t have to include bat crap crazy witch-dragons who think people should have human pets to keep company with and then discard like yesterday’s trash.” 

“Be that as it may, I would prefer if you didn’t resort to threats at the table,” Regina said in a way that sounded far too much like a mother addressing their child for poor manners than a queen controlling her subjects. 

The urge to retort, “she started it,” burned on her lips, but Emma refrained from blurting such in the middle of the already uncomfortable dining space. Instead, she peered across the table to find a smirking Ruby. “Which of the dens are you checking out today?” She asked, armed with a vague awareness of the locations of such dens, thanks to the detailed maps in her mother’s war room. 

Ruby’s smile broke off. “The ones that are technically under Regina’s protection, even if they don’t think so. There’s one south of here near the border that might be susceptible should anyone try to invade. I know...well, I knew the pack leader before the curse. He might be willing to listen long enough to understand that Regina’s laws about the wolves aren’t going to be held up by anyone outside of the Winter Castle. No one wants to see that kind of slaughter, not even if they think they’re strong enough on their own.” 

“They aren’t?” 

“They keep themselves out of sight for the most part - out of sight, out of mind- until it’s time to hunt. Mostly, they’re passive; controlled, but there are some who...well, they believe they’re the top of the food chain and whatever happens during wolf’s time can’t be held against them when they change back, no matter how much control they have over their actions while running.” 

“You’re going to be putting yourself in danger to talk with them, aren’t you?” Emma asked timidly. There was a part of her, a big part, that didn’t want to know that the woman she considered to be a friend was going to be in harm’s way, not when she was at least partially responsible for the need for Ruby to go into the woods and hunt down the den. 

Ruby shrugged her thin shoulders and took another bite of her meal. “It’s nothing more than I’ve already done in the past,” she replied in a flat tone. “They know the risk outsiders pose to the pack and, like it or not, I was a part of that pack for a brief time.” 

“I thought-” The blonde stopped herself before she could continue with, “Granny kept you controlled by the cloak.” 

“I killed one of the pack to save a friend’s life.” The waitress took a deep breath and exhaled, breaking her rigid analysis of the food on her plate to search the savior’s eyes for forgiveness...or sympathy- she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for. I paid the price for it, end of story.” 

“But-”

Ruby shook her head and pushed back from the table, a frown etched firmly on her features as she rose from her seat. “I’ll be back before dark, Regina, with the pack’s decision. Is there anything you want me to relay?” 

“No, dear. I trust your instincts on the matter.”


	14. Chapter 14

“No!” Henry hollered as he broke through the crowd surrounding the entryway to the war room. Looking every bit perturbed as a young boy on the brink of manhood could, he pushed past the guards, the sturdy baker’s boys who had yet to wield a weapon, and the others who had already reveled in victory over the Evil Queen once before. He looked smaller than ever, though, despite the scowl set firmly upon his face; the lanky Prince determined to make things right for all parts of his family, even the limbs others would rather chop off and burn than acknowledge. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.” 

From the center of the room, surrounded by her confidantes, his grandmother cast a tired glance at the boy, exhausted already, before she ordered, “Go back to your room, Henry,” in a firm voice. She barely blinked an eye at his continued presence and defiance of the order before she returned to studying the various maps and wooden pieces, laid out like an elaborate game of chess, in front of her; each piece moving under her the power of her voice and the subtle input from Granny. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“You want to kill my mom,” the boy protested against the deafening silence of the room, face scrunching and reddening in full anger at the very thought that his sweet, loving grandmother (the quintessential princess) would be so willing to launch a full-scale attack on the woman who had raised him, loved him, and cared for him. When he felt the heavy weight of his grandfather’s hand on his shoulder, he stood taller, reminding himself that the Evil Queen had never bowed in front of those who opposed her. As her son, he would stand just as tall until he was forced to his knees; the thought was enough to quell the trembling in his knees. “You want to send an army to kill her,” he elaborated, sickened by the idea that death was the appropriate sentence imposed without trial. “That makes it my concern.” 

Snow shook her head and leaned against the tables, hands splayed over the worn papers and wooden markers. “No,” she corrected. “We’re sending an army to remove Regina as a threat, not your mother. We’re bringing Emma back home to where she belongs; back home to you, Henry.” 

With each word that dripped from Snow White’s tongue, the Prince found himself hating each and every time he had rallied for the powers of Good in Storybrooke; each and every time he had called his mother evil. “She went to get help,” Henry continued with a desperate tongue and frantic eyes. “Emma went to find my mom. She’s not...my mom’s not evil. You can’t kill her. That’s why Emma left, to find my mom and bring her back here to fight King George.”

“This isn’t your fight, Henry. Your mother- Regina, she’s killed before...she cursed us to Storybrooke, away from our lives. And now she’s a threat to us again.” The King paused to consider how he would explain to the boy that his adoptive mother needed to be eliminated from the ever-growing list of threats to the kingdom. “If she were to join George, combine magic with might-”

“But she won’t. She wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me; she loves me, I know she does.”

“And there is nothing in this world or any other that would keep her from killing the rest of us,” Snow finished for her grandson with a sad, distant look. There had been a time when she would have defended Regina with the same sort of valiant dedication as her grandson, but that time had long since passed. Gone were the days when she would seek out her step-mother in the gardens of the castle, begging the young woman to tell her a story of true love or perhaps of loves not yet found. But those days had been tapered with a sense of hatred and disloyalty from the dark-haired Queen who had once extolled on the virtues of true love to a young girl who had fallen from her steed. 

“Not anymore!” Henry protested again, sweeping stray strands of dark hair from his forehead with trembling hands. He moved forward, breaking his grandfather’s hold on his shoulder to square himself off, knees slightly bent, as he prepared to confront each and every person who wanted to do his mother harm. “You didn’t see her- not when she was broken on the floor; not when the only thing she wanted was me. You didn’t see her because you were too busy gloating about your victory over the Evil Queen.” 

“And you don’t think she wouldn’t be gloating if the tables were turned,” a previously silent dwarf spoke up. “The Queen is incapable of love, incapable of feeling. You were a possession to her, boy.” 

“You’re wrong,” the Prince accused harshly with a pointed finger dancing in the direction of a suitably fattened Leroy. The anger rushed through him, directed squarely at the drunken dwarf who dared speak out of turn, and threatened to spoil the rest of the manners that had been instilled in him since the first day he spent as a Mills. “You’re wrong because you never saw her like I did. You didn’t sleep in her bed when it was raining outside, warm and cozy because you knew she would keep all the monsters away; you didn’t get the hot cocoa in bed when you were sick; you never got bedtime stories or hugs. You’re wrong because you never knew anything about her except from what you were told.” The boy shook his dark head, hair flopping into his eyes as he waited for the rebuke to come. “And, Grandma, if my mom really wanted to, she would have already killed you. She’s had plenty of time since she escaped from the dungeon you put her in.” 

“Henry,” the Queen offered softly, understanding the depth and pain of losing a parent. “Henry, we can’t take the chance that Regina won’t-”

“No,” he interrupted. “She’s changed, and Emma’s going to prove it when she brings her back.” 

“She’s been offered redemption before, boy.” Leroy huffed with a puff of his chest that made him appear as obnoxious as he was in Storybrooke after a few drinks. Entitled, too, Henry thought with recall back to the days when his mom would warn him to stay away from the drunk dwarf. “And she spat it back in the Queen’s face.” 

With one last attempt at the rigid harshness he had often seen from the mayor in Storybrooke, Henry all but yelled,“Grandma offered her a prison. Even if she accepted, she would have never been free.” There were lines he had crossed- several of which had caused a ruckus from the crowd surrounding the royal family- but he stood his ground, panting at the exertion from defending those he loved. The curse was supposed to break, yes, but not at the expense of his family. “You gave her what you gave Emma, a prison. Neither of them wanted to be here, and when she comes back, I’m going with them.” 

“You aren’t going anywhere, Henry,” the King said lowly, motioning with a single finger to the guards who stood staggered throughout the room. “Take him back to his room and ensure he stays there.” 

\----------  
“You know, my parents have a set of maps like those,” Emma commented as she stepped inside whats she assumed to be Regina’s own version of a war room. In appearance, it was much more like a grand hall, though, with more furniture. “Except, I think you might have more, and that one is definitely bigger than any of theirs that I saw.” 

At the head of the table, Regina nodded in acknowledgement to the blonde’s presence. She had wondered how long it would take for the young woman to follow after breakfast had been cleared from the table and the servants scurried to their other duties throughout the castle, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts in the dining hall. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or more of your ramblings to fill the silence,” she murmured, her low, raspy voice circling through the cavernous room. 

The savior shrugged and stepped closer, carefully cataloguing the images, keys, and strategic positions marked on the worn sheets. She dropped her hands along the edge of the table, fingers clear of the papers lest she accidentally rip one, as she studied one set in particular. “Where’s your castle on here? I would have thought you’d use it as a base point.” 

“This map is older than any of the others,” the Queen replied amiably as she shifted the other maps out of the way to expose the entire sheet. “From the first of the Ogre wars; it was created when the first alliances of the kingdoms from this land were formed. “Here,” she pointed to a specific clump of trees marked on the yellowed fabric, “is the approximate location of this castle, and,” her finger moved lower, “is your parents’.”

With more interest than she had ever shown in school, Emma’s eyes trailed after the elegant finger that continued to dart across the expansive map. She listened to the tales of the villages that had been burned down, from previous wars begun by other monarchs and from those Regina had contributed to herself, as the Queen explored the changes the Enchanted Forest had been forced to endure by the hand of those with royal blood. 

“And this one?” Emma inquired as she slipped her own hand under Regina’s to point to a specific village not mentioned during the brief history lesson. If her geography was not wrong, it had been left standing after the Ogre wars. 

“One of the few that survived, most likely because of its inhabitants.” The first map was cast to the side and another took its place; this one newer, less yellowed, and filled with names Emma could attribute to areas still in existence according to the brief view of the maps Snow White had consulted on the fateful day she had run from the castle. “It is a sanctuary of sorts for the ‘wolves, and it’s where I sent Ruby today.” 

That turn of events, the declaration of Regina’s trust in the waitress, had been unexpected. “You told her that you trust her instincts. Is that true?” 

Regina nodded solemnly and tore her eyes from the maps of the Forest. If needed, she could probably recreate them from memory, but still she felt the need to consult the old, worn papers- if only for nostalgia’s sake. There was a considerable amount of comfort and reassurance to be found in the musky scent of the worn books and charts. “Much to my surprise, Ruby has become a great ally; a friend and confidante, I suppose, in the time we’ve spent in each other’s company. After I...escaped, she was one of the few who approached me without fear and asked for sanctuary. There was something about having someone need me- what I could offer- that appealed to my better nature.” 

“Your better nature?” As the White Knight, she had learned to be skeptical, if only from the stories in Henry’s book and her own interactions with the manipulative mayor, of anything that had to do with Regina’s unpredictable nature. With the exception of few instances, the dark brunette had been nothing more than a manipulative woman on the verge of destruction, whether to herself or the town. 

“Yes. Ruby is one of the few people whose company I enjoy.” Regina threw her head back against the high-backed chair, skull colliding with the heavy wood, as she fought to find the words to explain herself and her continued tolerance of the wolf. Theirs was a complicated relationship borne in the dreary hours that separated loneliness and despair from a life worth living in chains and prisons. “She’s never given any indication that she would offer my head in exchange for her own release in the event of war. In exchange for ensuring her grandmother would be spared at all costs attributable to my own actions, she offered me a lifetime of loyalty and service.” 

It would take some time before Emma could come to a place where she would understand why Ruby had made the choices she had, but the sense of loyalty- yes, she could understand the value of loyalty. She also understood the power that disloyalty held over those thrown to the side like yesterday’s garbage from her days in the foster system. The appeal of anything, anyone, to provide comfort and protection was- for lack of a better word- intoxicating, rivetingly so. If nothing else, she wanted that same sense of loyalty from Regina and to offer it in kind, as well. “What can I do? I mean, other than kill a dragon or ride a horse ‘cause I’m pretty sure neither of those would helpful.” 

If the brunette was taken aback by the offer to assist, she surely did not show it. With a nimble hand, she tucked the edge of the map into the crook of her fingers and dragged it until it rested before the princess. “I think it wise to not tip our hand with full force when the first wave of riders strikes the northern boundary, therefore you will remain with supplies near the rear of the-”

“Where are you going to be?” Emma inquired without restraint as she fidgeted beside the seated Queen. With nothing better to do with her hands than fidget in a haphazard fashion, she splayed them across the route Regina’s finger had earlier traced. Her eyes remained firmly trained on the scattered stains that adorned the soft fabric. “At the head of the fight, I assume? That’s where the Queen usually rides, right? With her soldiers, sword drawn in anticipation of battle.” She took a deep breath and silently recalled all of the times she had been pushed away as a child in the foster system, to become a bother for someone else to deal with. Not today, she told herself. 

Today, Emma Swan became the White Knight Henry had touted her to be in Storybrooke; the Savior who had freed a town frozen in time from the Dark Curse cast by the Evil Queen, and she would do it with a sword heavy in her hand as she stood beside that same Queen in the face of bloodied warriors and ravaged lands. “Wherever you are, I’ll be at your side.” 

By her side, Regina appeared contemplative, almost brutally so as she absorbed the declaration that echoed through the room. “You would,” she murmured softly, her voice nearly at the breaking point. She took a moment and inhaled deeply before she replied, deeper than before, “You would stand by my side in a battle against your parents? You would stand beside me when my army swarms their home, in the place you were supposed to grow as a child into a princess, until they have no other choice but to surrender?” 

“If that’s the way you want to do this, then, yeah I’m in.” It amazed her how easily the words slipped off her tongue. Did she want to do this the civilized way and offer peace between the queens? Absolutely. Would that happen? Probably not, and not without considerable time that they simply did not have with George’s threats fresh in her mind. _And the little bastard, what right does he have to the throne?_ “If you can limit the casualties and tell me that my parents won’t be harmed, then I’m all in.” 

“What changed? When I posed the idea of meeting them with swords drawn, you were ready to go to war with me yourself. Yet, now, you’ll all but given me your permission and blessing to burn down the Summer palace provided, of course, that Snow White and her dear Prince are spared from the savagery.”

“I’ve decided to put faith in someone, Regina, for the first time in a long time,” the blonde replied honestly. “You could have killed Ruby or kept her alive and tortured her until her body finally gave out, but you didn’t; hell, you could have done the same to me. That tells me that there’s some shred of humanity and goodness in you, and I’m willing to ride that out. If you can honestly tell me that there’s no other way to help my parents and Henry but to take over, then I want to stand beside you when you do it. But, and I swear to God, Regina, if you’re only doing this for revenge or power, I will have no problems running a sword through your gut, no matter how much Henry hates me afterwards.” 

The Queen nodded solemnly, quietly absorbing the strength of the threat. “Limited casualties, that’s all I can offer you, Emma. I don’t know any other way to help my son but through destruction; it’s all I’ve ever done.” 

Though her superpower had been tripped before by the mayor, Emma maintained eye contact long enough to convince herself of the truth behind Regina’s statement. Even she could understand the amount of bad blood between the Evil Queen and Snow White and see that there would never be any other way to assist than by the spillage of blood on the battlefield. So, Emma could only come to one conclusion- 

They were going to war.


	15. Chapter 15

“That’s your army?” Emma asked as she leaned over the railing high above the courtyard where soldiers practiced on each other with dulled weaponry. With their faces concealed, much like the guards who patrolled the halls, they parried, heavy metal swords clashing against the flagstone every so often, with an occasional cry of victory when an opponent surrendered to the mock battle. From her place on the balcony, they looked like nothing more than children playing; miniature Henrys out to prove themselves as knights for the Queen’s approval and favor; nothing more than the plastic army men that had once been scattered on the floor of Henry’s room when he was younger, lined up in battle formations that would only make sense to a child. She could only hoped that the Evil Queen’s army knew more about battle formations and strategy than a young child did when they lined up against George’s rigid executioners. “I thought there would have been more of them. And that they would be bigger, scarier...something.” 

That something, she didn’t know what it was that was missing from the scene. The guards who frequented the innermost halls of the palace appeared capable of defending the walls, but- perhaps it was the jovial laughter that floated up to the balcony that made her so unsure about their abilities to drive a sword through another man’s gut if the circumstances warranted. Maybe it was the doubt about her own abilities to keep every aspect of her newfound family together that troubled her more than the soldiers’ apparent glee. 

By her side, the Queen smirked, darkly. “Perhaps you should join them down there, dear, then, with a sword aimed at your heart, they might seem larger than life; scarier, more deadly, and certainly much larger than they appear.” 

The blonde shook her head in response. Eventually, she might need to acquire some techniques other than tossing a sword at an enemy, but she had no plans for the present to go against the preening soldiers who chortled with glee at every point of contact. She agreed to stand beside Regina, even carry a sword at the head of the troops, but that did not mean she intended to use her blade; not in the traditional sense, that was. “Some of them look like they’re Henry’s age,” she said, wishing like hell she had kept her mouth shut when Regina’s mouth skewed to the side in a show of disgust. 

“Close enough,” the dark-haired woman offered as she pushed back from the balcony, thoroughly discontent with the view from above, reminded that many of the knights in shimmering armor would be nothing more than bloodied corpses on the battlefield by the time the war was over. The sons of soldiers, bakers, blacksmiths, and more would be nothing more than memories for their loved ones to remember over the fire during the winter and mourn open over stone graves when the snow melted in the spring. “Though, they’re more prepared for war than he ever would have been. Some of them have been training since they could walk; signed into service by their fool fathers looking for the favor of the Queen.” 

For a few minutes, Emma remained silent in an effort to imagine Henry on the front lines of battle, but she came up short on producing the actual image. The thought of her sweet little boy clad in heavy armor and wielding a weapon, slaughtering innocent men, on the front lines is enough to make her want to lean a bit more over the railing and discard her breakfast all over the soldiers and flagstone below. He might have played at being the prince and hero in Storybrooke, but in the Enchanted Forest, he was woefully underprepared for the circumstances of war, and for that she worried for his continued safety and well-being. Not that she fared much better, she added silently to herself; not when she had openly cowered before a queen she could have taken with a single blow. “Henry wouldn’t...he wouldn’t be fighting, would he?” 

“He’s a Prince, at least by your bloodline,” Regina replied flatly, turning when she reached the center of the room, arms wrapped around her waist in a show of rare vulnerability. “There would be no reason to send him out to the front lines at such a tender age and with so little training. Perhaps, had he been born here, trained with a master swordsman-”

“He would have been as good as the guys down there,” Emma finished for her, nodding her head in the direction of the view they had admired for nearly an hour. She cocked her head and studied the other woman, seeing, if not for the first time, the fear blazing in her dark eyes.“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure I would have screwed him up here just as I would have done had I not put him up for adoption.” 

A dark brow quirked in steady agreement. “I would have to agree, dear, but not by your own failings. You have a peculiar taste in men; Henry’s father being the prime example.”

If she was insulted, Emma certainly didn’t show it in the gentle shrug of her shoulders. She had made mistakes in the past- could even admit to them- and Henry’s father was one of the most prominent of the wounds that Regina liked to slice and dissect in conversation, like Emma were a lab rat with an incurable disease that might, just might, be the missing link for the betterment of human society; that is, if Regina were that altruistic or that curious about the happenings in the blonde’s brain. “Let me guess- you’ve got this whole image of a drug dealer or something concocted, just waiting to be confirmed.”

“Hardly, Emma. I would think a thief would be a step up from whatever I initially thought of you and your choice in bedmate, as tragic as it is. Rumplestiltskin’s son, however, was not what I was expecting.” 

“Excuse me?” Rumplestiltskin’s son? Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, Mr. Gold had a son? 

The Queen rolled her eyes. “Neal Cassidy, your former lover. You sank into the bed of Rumplestiltskin’s only spawn - I assume it was willingly, unless you’d like to say otherwise- and later birthed our son.”

Cringing, Emma offered, “It was the back of the Bug, actually,” in a stilted, hushed voice. Anger ran freely through her veins as soon as the admission made its way past her lips, feeling the only defensive walls building in response to the predatory look that settled on Regina’s face. The narrowed eyes and hard smirk adorning red lips had never before hinted toward pleasant conversation or compliments aimed in her direction, so why on Earth had she willingly handed over the incriminating piece of information that hadn’t been requested? 

“That eyesore you insisted on driving around my town?” Regina quirked a dark brow and smirked at the thought of the dear blonde rattling around Storybrooke with a constant reminder of the circumstances that led to Henry’s conception and birth. Certainly, there must have been more to the “back of the Bug” than the blonde was willing to admit, because her precious vehicle was an eyesore and a hazard to the environment. “Well, personally, I can’t wait for the family reunion. It should be positively riveting.” Her lips dropped a moment later and settled into a deep frown, eyes cast downward to the grey stones. “I’m sure Henry will be thrilled to have his natural family back together, perhaps even to serve as the ring bearer at the royal wedding. And your mother-” 

“My mother will be disappointed, ‘cause that’s really not going to happen,” Emma interrupted once she regained her bearings. Somehow Regina knew about Neal and the fact that he was Gold’s son, which was news to the blonde as her former lover had never mentioned being the son of the world’s most powerful pawn broker, not that it was really traditional post-coital conversation. “Henry, too. Whatever, wherever, Neal is, I’m not going back to him. I wouldn’t...I couldn’t do that.” 

There was some relief in that statement, whatever that actually meant for Regina and the tenuous hold she had on her son. With the additional of Neal into the parenting triangle, she believed she would be shoved to the side, a forgotten bit of history to recall on rainy days that brought on sentimental feelings and thoughts reminiscent. How long would she remain in Henry’s life should his parents by birth reunite in a flurry of love and time lost? How long would it be before her wonderful little boy, the same who stated how much he despised her, forgot about her entirely in favor of his new family? Cast her aside to make way for his birthparents, grandparents (Rumplestiltskin included). The thoughts alone were enough to make Regina’s fingers clench tighter about her waist, fingernails raking into the soft fabric of her attire in a threatening manner that belied the blank expression upon her features. “Henry will be disappointed,” she finally offered in a steady if not hushed voice.

“The kid’s going to have to live with the fact that what I had with Neal, it was a one time thing. Nothing more than a confused kid who thought an older guy who saved her ass from the cops was going to be her knight in shining armor. Turned out that the thief turned into a manipulator, and, as mad as I was back then, Neal leaving me to go to jail for him let me discover some things about myself.” She took a deep breath, wondering about just when the day had turned into one blessed with confessions from the heart. Especially to Regina. 

Their relationship might have morphed from near loathing to one of almost placid companionship balanced on the precarious ledge of friendship in the few days since her flight from Snow’s kingdom, but that failed to explain the inexplicable need on Emma’s behalf to move closer to the other woman. It didn’t explain the desire to lean in and drop a kiss on those lips that threatened to pout, and it most certainly did not explain why Emma did all of those things without the slightest twinge of regret once she had stepped back into her own space. 

The only trace of fear lay in her eyes, widened as they were, as though the Queen might strike out like a wounded viper for the unrepentant display. “I discovered things about myself when Neal left me to sort out his crimes, Regina, and one of those was that I would rather kiss you than Neal,” Emma said, forcefully. “When I said I would stand beside you during battle, I meant to say that I wanted to stand beside you through all of it. I probably should have mentioned this all back in Storybrooke, ‘cause then we might not be standing here in fucked up fairy tale land where people want to kill me, our son, and you’re public enemy number one.”

“You’re confused,” Regina retorted in an impossibly small voice. Hushed as it was, it still managed to echo through the room, reverberating effortlessly off the walls, until it finally flickered out the window in a breeze of cold air. “You’ve confused hospitality for-”

“Not a chance,” the blonde interrupted with a hard shake of her head and a quick, silent prayer to whichever gods looked after the Enchanted Forest and its inhabitants that she wouldn’t make a complete fool of herself. “I might not have grown up on some fancy estate like you did, but hospitality usually means that the hostess doesn’t try to kill you, and it definitely means that the hostess doesn’t drag the guest into her bed for so-called protection from her loony friend. So, if you aren’t opposed to women, I want to stand in for your White Knight or whatever you want to call me, seeing as I’m going to be standing beside you on the battlefield.” 

“The Evil Queen doesn’t have a White Knight.” 

Emma shrugged, considering the fact for the briefest of seconds. “Call me your knight in damaged armor, then, but that doesn’t change my intent. I felt whatever it is between us back in Storybrooke but you seemed unapproachable, not to mention murderous, there-”

“And I’ve become anything less than that here?” 

“You became more human,” the blonde explained slowly. “You showed me the place where your husband took the last bit of your innocence after you watched the man you loved die in front of you; you told me about your fears of losing Henry and what that would mean, showed me how much trust and faith you were willing to put into a woman with as much to lose as yourself, and most importantly, you promised to ensure the wellbeing of several people, many of whom you despise and would have gladly ripped their hearts from their chests before. So, the question, again, is if you have a preference for women, more specifically if you have a preference for me. If not, tell me now and I won’t ever bring it up again.” 

“I’m not certain that this is the best time to be discussing things,” the Queen murmured, crossing the room to the heavy doors that barricaded them against the rest of the world. Inside her bedchambers, she could find a way to rationalize spending time with the blonde, but outside? Away from the considerable threats Maleficent’s mere presence brought and the desire for companionship of someone who did not fear her, another question entirely. 

“Probably not, but I’m asking you to think about it right now. I don’t want to go out there, sword drawn, standing beside you, and think about everything I wanted to do with my life but chickened out from doing. If something happens to you or me, I don’t want my last regret being that I didn’t tell you that I feel something for you that certainly isn’t hatred or fear. Although, you throw another right hook at my head and I might start to fear you a little bit.” The last part was added with a cheeky grin, so wide Emma’s cheeks threatened to split from the exertion. War was a fickle thing, each side believing they could win no matter the forces stacked against them, and she would be damned if she didn’t take advantage of all the could-be’s before she went out to face it with her head held high. “So, yeah, I’m thinking that this is as good as any time to discuss this. If you don’t want this, any of it, tell me and I’ll back off. I’ll stand beside you all the way, be your White Knight, but in a more official capacity without the added perks. It’s your choice, Regina.”   
Her choice. “And you want this, whatever it is between us?” The Queen intoned, dark eyes cast over the savior’s pulsating body as the other woman bobbed to and fro on the balls of her feet in anticipation of a response. “You expect me to believe that behind all of your threats to take Henry from me, the ploys to find fault in the way I ran my town, the wide-eyed shows of cowardice and pitiable action you’ve displayed here- all of it led to you wanting a relationship?” 

The blonde bobbed on her feet, full of barely constrained energy like a puppy who’d gone too many days inside without proper exercise, and nodded her head enthusiastically. It was a relief, almost, to be able to lay everything on the table now that the negotiations for her parent’s lives and her own well-being were assured. She would almost say that she and the Queen were on equal footing, even if Regina did count on those ridiculous heels to give herself an advantage. 

“I’ll even give you a freebie. Kiss me now, no power plays or ulterior motives, and if you like it, I’ll take that as a yes. If you hate, I’ll fade to the background, learn to use a sword without throwing it and stand beside you when it’s time to move forward and save our son, no questions asked.” Emma affected a wounded puppy expression, hoping it would coax the so-called Evil Queen into compliance with the plan she most desired, because if it failed she would look nothing short of a spectacular idiot. 

“A freebie, dear?” Regina smirked at the implications of what that freebie might entail. To say she was intrigued was an understatement, and if the blonde was offering herself free of charge, well then-

Emma nodded and waited as the brunette made the first move. Still as a rock, she waited until she could feel the warm puffs of Regina’s breath on her collarbone and cheek, close enough to reach out and claim as her own. Soon enough warm, soft lips found her own and then-

“Regina! I can’t leave them out there to play soldier boy while you’re in here doing-” Maleficent halted in the open doorway, fingers flushed against the heavy door as she leaned in to more carefully observe what she had discovered. “Apparently doing the savior. Terribly sorry about that, my dear. I could-”

The brunette pulled back quickly, forcibly swallowing against the urge to dispel the interloper from the room, her eyes never leaving Emma’s. “There’s nothing more here, dear, so if you would be so kind as to wait for us in the hallway. Emma and I will be along shortly to discuss a plan of action.” 

The witch nodded her consent and, silently, made her way back out of the room, a small smile playing upon her lips as she went. 

“We’re going to discuss this, right?” Emma asked in a near frantic tone. The appearance of Maleficent had been nothing short of poorly timed, especially when she was left bereft of a definitive answer. 

“Of course, dear, but we’re expected in the hall to discuss things with Maleficent now. Our discussion will have to wait.” 

Though the words “hell no” were on the tip of her tongue because, dammit, their conversation was still in progress when the witch butted into things, Emma couldn’t find the will to shove them out of her mouth when Regina turned away from her and strode to the door, nary a head tilt to beckon the blonde to follow. Well, fuck, Emma thought as her feet caught up to her brain, because she wasn’t waiting until the end of the war to get an answer.


	16. Chapter 16

“I’ll assume that this was not part of the plan,” Marcus said in a sarcastic tone as he fidgeted against the stake where he was tied. His calloused fingers could barely wrap around the rope used to bind him, let alone make any headway into freeing himself. If he were honest with himself, he should have kept his wit about him and remained at the castle to observe the Evil Queen’s plans instead of following a beautiful woman into the forest full of wolves. 

Ruby scowled in response from her own tied position. She, too, had tried to loosen the bindings, but the wolves had tied the ropes far too tight for any progress to be made. It would serve her right that she would find herself prisoner to a wolf pack when she walked freely in the kingdom of the Evil Queen. “I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact that I killed one of theirs the last time I was here,” she said, regrettably. “They’re still pissed about it.” 

“Did the Queen know that before she asked you to speak with them?” From his position, he could see the savage animals talking amongst themselves beyond the open doorway; most likely discussing the various ways they could kill the intruders who dared cross into their land. The torturous ways they would crucify his body for being naive enough to think that the wolf at his side would be weapon enough against an entire pack. 

“Probably not. Besides, I agreed to come.”

“And march into your death like a foolish pup,” came another voice from outside the room. Distinctly female and with a familiar lilt to her voice, the tall, slender woman slunk into the room without much grace to her step. “You should have stayed with the Queen, Red, where you were safe from those who wish you dead. You took a life from us, and-”

“She tried to kill my friend,” Ruby retorted. “And I’m well aware of what her life was worth. Did you forget that she was my mother? I haven’t.”

Marcus stared grimly at his traveling companion. As the wolf, he knew she had killed, but how much she recalled after the slayings? He hadn’t comprehended before. The blood on her hands seemed to drip once again as he came to the realization that he had placed himself in the hands of two ruthless killers- the Queen and her wolf. The sight of the other wolf, the one who staggered on unsure feet and grinned with sharper teeth than he had ever seen on a mortal, kept his tongue silent for fear that the wolf tied by his side would be his only chance at survival. 

“I’m not here for myself,” the dark-haired wolf continued. “The Queen requires your assistance and she’s willing to pay for it.” 

“After how many of us pay with our lives?” The older woman asked, roughly. Her brow furrowed as she pondered the ties that bound Red to the stake in the center of the room. Such a shame that such potential needed restraint. “What is the price for a pelt these days?” 

Ruby shook her head and fought against her bindings, wiggling to and fro to force the ropes loose. Had she been in wolf’s form or closer to wolf’s time, they wouldn’t be an issue, but as it was, she was well and truly stuck. “What’s the price of your life? You know what it’ll cost you to refuse the Evil Queen’s offer.”

“It’s illegal to hunt wolves on these lands,” the woman suggested with an air of defiance. 

“Unless you’re the queen who put those protections in place. Just think of how fast the huntsmen will be on your track should she find reason to lift the ban. You’ll be a pelt before morning, and lying on someone’s floor by the next moon as nothing more than a rug.” The brunette shrugged her shoulders as best she could. “You’ve got two options, Rhoda. You can either kill us now and face life on the run for the rest of your existence, or you can agree to the Queen’s plan and be paid handsomely for your troubles.”

\-------

Henry howled from within his bedchambers, alternating between slamming his body against the heavy door, much to the amusement of the guard sent to ensure the little Prince remained in his room, and against the numerous furs that covered his bed. The dichotomy of soft and hard had done its worst against his body, bruising his skin and comforting the heavy wounds in opposing fashion. 

“Let me out,” he demanded, marching up until he stood mere inches under the nose of the guard positioned by the door. The guard had been amused with his attempts at escape; Henry knew that, and not only by the sly slips of mirth that escaped the faceless man’s lips. “I demand you release me from this room!” 

The guard chuckled in amusement at the order. “I was informed that you will remain in your chambers until the King chooses to release you. Until that point, your highness, I can not release you from this room. Perhaps, if you’d like supper or entertainment, the court might send for a tray or jester.” 

The boy scowled up at the man, at once cursing the height difference between them and the lack of authority he held, even to the guards who should have heeded his request. He was powerless; the Prince of nothing but a title that couldn’t get him out of his own room. “Let me out,” he repeated in as much of an authoritative voice as a young boy could manage. “I, as the Prince, demand that you release me from this room.” 

“Terribly sorry, your highness, but my orders are that you remain in this room until the King or Queen see fit to have you released. If you require food, the kitchen’s are able to provide you with supper but it must be consumed in this room. If you desire entertainment, the jesters are available to entertain you but it must be done in this room. Under no circumstances are you to be released to roam the castle,” the guard responded in a haughty tone as he shook his head, crossing his arms when it became apparent that the Prince was not to be deterred from his goal. 

“Fine, then I want to be left alone.”

The guard shrugged his broad shoulders and let himself out of the room, shoving the heavy door shut before the Prince could think to make his escape through the minuscule opening left open by the guard’s expansive frame. 

Henry kicked the door for good measure once the nameless foot soldier had left his position, hoping beyond hope that the callous man felt the impact on the other side of the wall. His foot throbbed from where it had connected but he paid it no heed as he was just as stuck as when the guard had been taunting him. Without his grandparents to even respond to his calls, he was truly and utterly alone in his room for the first time since before the curse broke. Even in Storybrooke, had he been grounded, he could have counted on reading his comic books and being called down to dinner before his mom relented and let him go with nothing more than a warning. 

But in his room, without either of his mothers, he was stuck, and alone, and terrified of things to come. He adjusted the black tunic he had insisted on wearing, a rebellion of sorts against the White kingdom he had been forced to remain in, and tucked it further down into his black breeches. Had he the ability, he would have worn an emblem of his mother’s kingdom, if only to insight further fear into the hearts of his grandparents who kept him contained within his room like a common mutt. He had seen it, the fear, in their eyes when he pleaded for them to reach out and make the first move to the disgraced queen, and sought to further ignite their fears if it got him the results he needed- his mothers back together and fighting against a common foe, instead of each other. 

Henry paced the confines of his room without pause, drawing his feet up one side of the room and down the other while he considered how he could have improved his plan and how to improvise another to get the results he wanted, or, at least, out of the room for more than a walk down the hallway under close supervision. For nearly ten minutes, his sole focus was on the heavy grey stone floor. That was, until his booted foot scraped violently against a loose stone and he tripped, scowling back at the raised step. 

Kneeling down to inspect what he had so inelegantly tripped over, he smiled with glee when the stone fell from its keep with little prodding to reveal an opening in the floor. Undeterred by the prospect of an entirely filthy and potentially disappointing result, he slammed his fingers down the small hole until the hole engulfed his hand to the wrist. There, and only when he was convinced there was no hidden object to be found, he wrenched his hand back up, bringing another stone with him. 

Again and again he wrenched the stones from their position until only a good sized hole remained in the floor. His fingers plunged into the darkness until they skimmed over something cool to the touch and hard as any rock he had ever encountered. With eyes bright, Henry tugged at the object, dragging it nearer to him until the shimmer of silver could be seen in the low candlelight that lit his room. “C’mere,” he encouraged as he forced the object from its hiding place. “Let me see what you are.” 

A mirror. Plain and simple but resolutely effective for his purposes. With the absence of other mirrors in the castle, Henry found himself elated with his find, even if it was something as simple as a hand mirror without any sort of distinction worthy of nobility. He cleaned off its face in short time with his sleeve and peered down at it with a sense of urgency and hopefulness. “Mom,” he said tentatively, as though he expected only his reflection to remain seen. 

Nothing happened. 

“Mom,” Henry tried again with more urgency, shaking the mirror as he spoke forcefully. This time, his room disappeared from view, as well as his own face, and was replaced by a place darker and eyes more wary than his own. 

“Henry?” 

The Prince grinned mightily, nearly breaking his cheeks with the sheer force with which he beamed at the sight and sound of his mother. “I found you, mom,” he said as tears rushed down his heated cheeks. “I found this mirror and-”

“Henry.” 

That was not his mother’s voice, at least not the mother he had been anticipating. At the change in pitch and volume of the second person’s voice, his shoulders slumped. “Emma, where’s mom? I thought...I thought that was her. Did-”

“Hey, kid,” Emma said softly, her face breaking into the image on the mirror’s face. Beaming as she was, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that his other mother had disappeared from his sight. “Your mom’s here. She’s just...you know what, I don’t know what the hell she’s doing ‘cause we’ve been looking at those maps for the past hour and then you...she just needs to take a minute. You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m-” Broken was the word that came to mind, but he used “fine,” instead. His eyes searched the space behind his blonde mother, his heart having already convinced him that she was fine long before she appeared. After all, who would defeat the savior? His faith in her had once again proven to be right. “Can I talk to mom again? I need to...I just want to talk to her.” 

Henry listened to the cacophony of voices on the other end of the mirror, some of which he recognized and others were merely a blur that interfered with those he wanted to hear, as he searched for his mother’s rich rolling tones. 

_Talk to him, Regina. That’s all he’s asking for. Because he doesn’t want to talk to me, and if he’s in trouble then he’s going to need you for a plan to get out of it. Talk to your son, you infuriating woman! Just do it!_

Another visage took the place of his blonde mother, darker and more drawn. His eyes hastily scanned her every feature, noting the heavy bruising under her eyes that told of what little sleep she had managed and the set lines around her mouth as she stared back at him with unseeing eyes. “Mom,” he whispered. “Mom, I’m really-” 

“Where are you?”

“In my room,” he replied softly, scuffing his feet against the floor as he made his way to the bed. Henry perched upon the furs atop the bed, eyes focused solely on the distracted look in his mother’s eyes as they followed his progress through the room. “Grandma and Grandpa had me locked in after...I tried to tell them that you would come help if George...you wouldn’t let anything happen to me, but they didn’t believe that.” 

“No, I suppose they wouldn’t,” Regina answered shortly. “That’s the same story that your mother told me when she first arrived. From what I can ascertain about your surroundings, you’re being housed in the west wing.”

“I really want to apologize for-”

“I want you to walk over to the bookcase, Henry, and find a leather-bound novel on the third shelf from the bottom,” the Queen interrupted, much to the dismay of her son as he visibly fought to find the words to describe his apologies for the pain he put her through. “When you find it, remove it from its place on the shelf and feel around. I left a key there the last time I slept in that particular room. Assuming your grandmother never found it, it should still be there.”

The Prince nodded and gently laid the mirror down on the bookshelf, careful to not lose sight of his mother when he crouched down to the third shelf and felt the bindings of the books. His fingers trailed over the spines, searching for the leather his mother spoke of until, finally, he found what he searched for. Removing the book was simple enough, but the search for the key proved harder. 

“Have you found it yet, Henry?” 

“No, I-” Then the tips of his fingers grazed something cold and metallic. He grinned triumphantly, holding the key aloft to show to the queen like some great treasure found at the depths of the deepest sea. “I’ve got it, mom. It was right where you said it would be.” 

From within the mirror, Regina smiled tightly, frowning only when the room shifted behind the older version of the son she left behind. “Of course it was, dear. Now, I’ll need you to move the armoire seven inches to the center of the room, just enough for you to slip behind it and use the key on the door there.” 

_You had a hidden door? What the hell, Regina? You didn’t think to mention that before, you know, when I was stuck there._

The Prince had to chuckle at his blonde mother’s remarks as he set the hand mirror back down on the bookshelf while he settled in the task at hand. He had grown in both height and weight since Storybrooke, which made moving the heavy piece of furniture easier than it would have been with his lankier frame, but by no means easy. “I’ve got it,” he declared, frowning seconds later when the door refused to budge past the short distance his mother had ordered. He was still lanky but not small enough to fit through a hole small enough that only a rat could find its way through. 

“Stop scrunching your forehead like that, dear, and angle your body until you can slide through. It’s a tight fit, but unless you’ve been indulging in sweets like your mother, you’ll fit.” 

And he did. It was a tight fit, more so than he ever imagined by the time he reached his broadening chest, but he squeezed through all the same. It was then that he realized the flaw in his mother’s plan- the door to the hidden corridor was wide open and the dresser visibly moved beyond it. His eyes flickered back, leaving the mirror for a long period of time, awaiting further instructions. 

There was no use waiting in the open doorway, so Henry marched forward into the depths of the darkened tunnel. Cold stone bumped his shoulders as he stalked through the narrow hallway, his eyes narrowed on the small beams of light that fluttered through the cracks in the wall. Holding the mirror to the side, he took a deep breath and focused on his apology; the one that would finally absolve him from the night terrors that swept over his body at night, casting him into shivers in the morning. “Mom, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for what I said and-”

His dark-haired mother’s face disappeared from the mirror, leaving only the shocked and confused Emma behind. Henry watched her shrug her shoulders, then grin into the mirror. “Sorry ‘bout that, kid. Maleficent’s been a pain in my ass for days now, but Regina needs to keep her happy so we can come and get you, so-”

“She’s never going to let me apologize to her, Emma,” he responded, heavily, and with a significant droop in his shoulders. “She hates me.”

“You know, I would have given for anyone to ‘hate’ me as much as you think Regina does when I was a kid. She’s literally going to war for you, kid. That’s not hatred; that’s love.” Emma shifted, her gaze falling outside of the mirror’s reflection. “You should see her, Henry. She’s ready to kick ass and take names, and it’s all for you, so-”

Henry stopped short, nearly falling over his feet. “She sent me to the dungeon,” he said stiffly, eyeing the heavy iron bars and unkept floors with disgust. “Why would she send me here if she didn’t hate me?”

“Well, well. If it isn’t the little Prince lost.” The guard from his room, the one who should have been standing watch over the empty place, stood before him with a callous smirk. “One would think you would know better than to be wandering the halls and, what is that, taking orders from a mirror? You should know better than to be dealing with that type of magic, little Prince.” 

The Prince glanced down, waiting for instruction, but the mirror reflected only his own visage. His mothers, both of them, were gone from his sight and he was left alone with nothing more than a useless mirror and his wits. “Leave me alone.” 

Faceless and nameless, the guard failed to follow any orders other than those given to him by the reigning king. His grip on the young boy was tight, hard, and more powerful than the lanky pre-teen could shake off as he was placed into one of the cells. “For safekeeping, little Prince,” the guard murmured once the door was locked from the outside. “It wouldn’t pay to have you ruin the surprise for the White Queen, would it?” His fingers twitched at his sides and then he leaned in, expertly plucking the mirror from the Prince’s hands. “I’ll be taking that with me, boy.” 

“It’s mine!” Henry hollered, rushing the iron bars with the entirety of his weight. His body bounced off harmlessly, leaving only pain that would soon turn to bruises. “Give it back to me!” 

“However will my Queen know that her plan has fallen perfectly without reassurance from her most loyal supporter,” the guard asked plaintively as he removed his helmet and face guard. 

The Prince fell back in horror, his backside scrapping the floor violently as he flew away from the bars, eyes widened as he focused on the man before him. “W-why?”


	17. Chapter 17

Emma stepped on light feet into the main room, which had been converted into a war room of sorts by the dragon-witch, and attempted to keep her expression as blank as possible. The Queen, the, hopefully, former Evil one, had sent their son down to the dungeons of the Summer Palace to face the horrors there alone. And, on her instruction, he had followed because Emma herself had told him Regina was out to make it better for them all. While it was true that Regina had a plan, Emma wasn’t quite sure it was one that she wanted to fall into blindly now that their son had been left in the dark, damp dungeons to await his fate on her word. 

If she could do that to her son, what would she do to his birthmother and current resident who wandered her halls like a dutiful puppy looking for a scrap of information to cuddle with at night. 

“Do you even care?” Emma asked roughly, her voice breaking over the last of the words to fall from her tongue. Her feet met the cold stone with a loud thump, choppily alternating between stilted and long strides until her palms met the unforgiving hard wood of the table the two witches conferred over. Her body was off-kilter and she could feel it deep within her bones; the power she held was nothing should the sorceress’ retaliate against her accusation. “Is there even the tiniest bit of regret in your heart that you sent Henry, our son, to the dungeons? The same dungeons, need I remind you, that you were kept and pretty well tortured in for nearly a year.”

Perhaps, Emma thought, it was an unkind reminder to force the Queen into recalling the days when she was paraded before the royal family wearing nothing but rags and sporting bruises, the worst of which were magnified by gaunt features and an expression to clearly demonstrate the desperation in which the fallen queen wanted it all to end, but Emma had reached a point of desperation herself. She need Regina as much as Regina needed their son, and there was very little that would hinder what little progress she had made with the queen. 

The Queen’s body stilled but she refused to answer the question posed. Instead, her companion, the blonde witch by her side, spun on her heel and cackled at the young woman who looked so forlorn and utterly lost under the vaulted ceilings and oppressive emptiness of the room. “Were you never taught to respect others, Princess? Or have you suffered the loss of basic manners in the time you’ve spent in between the Queen’s-” 

“Enough, Maleficent,” Regina said quietly, breaking her silence but refusing to turn and greet the savior. “The only thing you need to know, Ms. Swan, is that Henry is as safe as he can possibly be right now. By now, he should be in the care of a dear friend who once helped me keep my sanity while I was locked in that place. Some time ago he swore an oath to both myself and our son to keep the both of us safe from harm. I trust that he will uphold his word should the need arise, so, yes, my dear, I gave Henry instruction to go to the dungeons, and I did so because I care, perhaps too much, for his welfare.”

“And the other one,” Maleficent added with a short grunt. She took a moment to drape herself over a straight-backed chair before she elaborated with, “the other one; the boy, Regina. The heir to all of this,” she finished, waving her arms about to indicate the room and past its walls. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten about the child you hand-plucked from all of the others as your second attempt to provide the kingdom with a suitable heir, especially since the first one seemed content enough to desire your head hanging from the open doorway of his dear grandmother’s castle.” 

“Marcus’ brother? The one who gave me Pony?” 

The Queen twitched at the inappropriate name given to one of her beloved steeds, but nodded all the same. There would be time later to educate the dear Savior on proper animal husbandry, but until then she would have to tolerate the blonde’s childish naming techniques and inability to hold onto anything gifted to her for more than a few precious minutes. 

“You were going to make him a Prince, instead of Henry?” She was confused, but Emma had gathered that the feeling of such would not be so foreign by the end of the war, especially if the answers to her questions were so cryptic. “You gave up on Henry, so, what, you got yourself a redo option? See if you could mould this one into a proper dark prince?” 

“He wasn’t a do-over, you imbecile,” Regina replied calmly, her tone belying her words, hands braced on the edge of the table. “I believed that Henry was lost to me and, therefore, unsuitable to name as my heir should I fall. Given that I owed the boy’s father a considerable debt for saving my life, I felt that offering his youngest son the chance to be educated and thrive in the halls was adequate, but giving his son a title and a kingdom upon my death... my debt would be repaid in that end.” 

“You can just do that- pick up some strange kid off the side of the road and say, “Hey, buddy, wanna be a king someday?” Just like that?” 

The dark brunette shrugged her shoulders, taking the opportunity to sit and motion for the inquisitive blonde to follow suit. “It’s not entirely unheard of for a barren monarch to leave a kingdom to an heir outside of blood. In fact, you should ask your father how he went from shoveling sheep shit to bearing a title worthy enough for him to marry a princess.” 

Pale fingers scrapped at the dark stain on the chair, picking until it revealed a lighter wood grain. For a few seconds, Emma pondered if the castle had always been so dark and dreary or if Regina had remodeled after the death of her husband until it matched the role she had been shaped into filling. The Evil Queen; it seemed strange to find herself aligned with someone who had done such heinous acts in her time, but then again, Emma had passed the point where she could choose her allies. Her desire to stand beside the Queen in the heat of battle had little to do with her hormones, though they played a significant part in wanting to remain near Regina at all times, and more to do with the power she found. 

It wasn’t as though she was entirely innocent, either. Good people, she supposed, did not steal from convenience stores or boost previously stolen cars. Emma smirked. Good people probably didn’t pick up stolen watches from train stations on the promise from their thieving boyfriend that everything would be better once they reached Tallahassee, but hers had become a world of grey long ago, so the Evil Queen as an ally and partner didn’t seem so bad in the grand scheme of things. It was far from her to judge what constituted a good person given her own record. 

But to offer her son’s rightful place on the throne to another? Emma couldn’t wrap her head around the change from the woman who would have done anything to keep her son by her side to the one sitting across the table in a display of contented defeat.

“What are you going to do now?” 

Dark brows quirked as Regina fought the smirk from her face, replying with a simple, “I’m going to take back what is rightfully mine,” before she stood, nodded once, and left the room without another word of instruction. 

Emma’s fingers bounced over the arms of the chairs as she contemplated rushing off to find and follow Regina. Left in the company of Maleficent only made her jitter more than usual, leaving her already off-kilter body feeling more vulnerable to attack. “I should-”

“No,” the blonde witch purred as she appeared behind the savior, long fingernails drawing odd shapes up and down the side of her exposed neck. “I think we should have a nice long chat since Regina decided it was time to leave us to fend for ourselves. You see, I thought you were some sort of pet for our dear Queen, but it turns out she has a tendency to choose pets with the ability to lie and manipulate as well as any servant to keep their heads.”

She was only weak if she showed her vulnerabilities, Emma reminded herself, and only vulnerable if she allowed those weaknesses to hold her from protecting herself and those closest to her. Straightening her spine and resisting the urge to tear her neck away from the sharp claws digging into her skin, she replied, “No, I didn’t lie,” in as calm a voice as she could manage, holding onto that truth with as much strength as possible. 

Dark painted nails dug deeper into the exposed flesh, leaving crescent shaped marks in their wake. “Do you think it’s wise to lie to me, again? Or have you become so accustomed to flailing to save your hide that you actually think I’ll fall for the same lines you regurgitated to Regina?” Blonde hair fluttered over the savior’s shoulder as Maleficent bowed down to greet her face-to-face. “Do you really think I’m foolish enough to fall for the act you’ve been playing? You might have slept in her bed but she doesn’t trust you more now that you’ve proclaimed your intents to stand by her side than she did before.” 

“I didn’t lie to her,” Emma grunted out, pausing in her struggle to not fight against the hands that held her in place, but the instinct to survive was becoming harder and harder to ignore. “Since you were eavesdropping on our conversation, you already know that I promised to stand by her side. I didn’t lie about that.” 

“No,” the witch agreed sullenly. “You’ve both only managed to lie to me. Though I find myself reluctant to place the blame with Regina, as she has been known to keep me far from her plans, I don’t take kindly to her little pet spreading half-truths in my presence.” She took a minute to contemplate her next statement, fingers rolling over Emma’s throat. “You know what happens to Regina’s lovers, don’t you? The various ways they’ve all met their ends at one point or another, yet you’ve gone ahead and promised to stand loyal. That intrigues me, little pet.” 

The savior grunted in response. She knew precisely what happened to Regina’s former lovers - dead, the lot of them- and what it meant to place herself in the same position as they had been in. Except, for once, Emma was the one who willingly walked into the assignment. “Maybe I’m different, ever think of that? Maybe Regina wants to keep me around because she likes me.” 

“Perhaps she wants to keep you around because you’re as useful as a hound on a hunt,” Maleficent retorted, bargaining the White Knight down to the station of a common hound. “Even a mutt who manages to flush out the birds has its uses, pet, but at the end of the day it’s still a mutt in a kennel full of royal hounds bred for the sport.” 

Emma quirked her brow in confusion as she attempted to sort through the conversation. Either Maleficent really liked to talk about bird hunting or she had managed to move the conversation into a snide commentary of Emma’s bloodline and upbringing. Funnily enough, Emma hoped it was the former rather than the latter. “What do you want? Do you want me to walk away so you can work whatever plan you’ve concocted? It’s not going to happen, crazy lady.” 

“Walk away? No, little pet. I don’t want you to do anything of the sort,” Maleficent assured, releasing the blonde’s neck as she draped herself over the empty chair to the left of the savior. “I was merely curious as to why you would lie to me about being Regina’s dear consort when all facts speak to the contrary. Surely she isn’t afraid of what I might do should we be left in the same room together, is she?” 

If there were a fairy godmother around, Emma would have wished for a sword to slay the dragon-witch. In human form or other, Maleficent held too many cards in her hand for another player to feel confident about making a bet and that made Emma feel far too vulnerable for her own good. 

“Are you going to weep when the shepherd-king falls to his demise?” The witch continued without thought to her companion’s own musings. “Will you fall to his side with your beloved mother, leaving your Queen open and unguarded, when the time comes? And when the little Prince comes to collect a debt, will you stand against him to save Regina’s life or will you step aside and let him extend his vengeance for failing him?” 

“What the hell?” She rose from her seat quickly, nearly dropping its heavy frame to the floor in her haste to make an escape from the witch’s taunts. “You really are bat crap crazy, aren’t you? Henry wouldn’t...he wouldn’t go after Regina like that.” 

“You’re so sure about that, aren’t you? So undeniably certain that once he finds the mother who he abandoned found another son that he won’t want vengeance. What about you, pet? Are you certain you’ll be able to stand between your son and your Queen without falling to one side or the other when it comes down to it?” 

If not for the fact that the witch looked positively bored with the entire exchange, Emma might have let her rattle off more insecurities with all the aplomb of a machine gun in the heat of battle, but when it came down to it, the marks Maleficent aimed for so easily were taking hits faster than Emma could put up makeshift barriers. She found herself vulnerable and weak within an instant, all of the worries when running headfirst into Regina’s plans and power struggle flooded through her veins until she could do nothing but face each and every one of them with wide eyes and a trembling hand. “I think I have more faith in Regina than you do,” Emma replied calmly. “See, you might have known the Evil Queen who was a bit unhinged, but I knew Regina the mother and there’s nothing that woman wouldn’t do for her kid. He might be pissed that she told him to hang out in the dungeon- hell, I’m ticked that she did it- but he’ll get over it and no matter what bull she might be spewing about finding another kid to rule, she’s got every hope in the world that someday she’ll be around to watch Henry sit in her seat.” 

“Now I see it, little pet,” the witch drawled slowly, fingers clenching the chair arms. “I can see what Regina sees in you. Just like all of her other lovers, you have that same unerring optimism. Like the huntsman who wanted for nothing but the safety and security of his wolves, the pirate who preened about the castle until she shipped him off to have her deeds done; you’re full of that same optimism. Tell me, pet, now that you’ve done everything in your power to secure the fates of your parents and son from Regina, what would you do to have me promise the same?” 

“I-”

“Would you follow me on bended knee for the rest of my days as you seem to be anxious to do for our dear Queen, or would disregard that request and risk my wrath should I come face-to-face with your beloved son first?” 

Fucking dragon, Emma thought as she railed against the thought of plunging a decorative sword through the witch’s chest. She reminded herself that killing the dragon-witch was still murder, no matter the reasoning behind the slaughter she had in mind for daring to threaten Henry’s life. “You wouldn’t dare. You know as well as I do that if you touch one hair on Henry’s head, you’d be dead before the next sunrise. Regina would destroy you and-”

The witch chuckled. “Yes, I’m well aware of the harm that would befall me should I lay one hand on the boy’s head, but you should also know that I’ve invested far too much in Regina’s siege for the throne to let it fall to the wayside for the sake of the unworthy prince.” 

“Unworthy?” 

“Do you think the populace wants to see the grandson of the Dark One on the throne? Disregarding, of course, the Princess’ own bloodline and that of her precious shepherd, he’s a liability due to his ever-changing loyalties. Those numbers are dwindling, princess, and soon enough the only voice counted will be for the exiled Queen to sit back on her throne.” Maleficent leaned forward and nodded at the savior. “There are things moving that not even Regina knows about, pet, so it would be best for you to decide where you want to stand at the end of this- at the end of a rope or beside the Queen.” 

“It’s none of your business where I stand or choose to stand or what I say to Regina in the privacy of her own home-” 

“No, pet, it’s none of my business,” the blonde witch agreed with a bob of her head. “But it is fair to warn you that your list of enemies is not a short one by any means. The Forest is changing, and it isn’t changing in favor of those who would fall on their swords for the long lost princess or her parents who would damn the rest of us to find each other again. So run along, Emma, and find the Queen, but be sure of where you want to stand before you fall into her bed. Your son might not like the consequences should you fall to the wrong side.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Do you think he’ll cry?” The guard asked later that night to no one in particular as he paced before the prince’s new cell. With a naked head and clear grey eyes, he traversed the minuscule hallway, leather-covered feet shuffling through the dirt and muck. “What would it take to make the Crown Prince cry, I wonder? If I stuck him with my sword, would he bleed the blue of his mother or the red of his father? Tell me, little Prince, would you scream if I ran my sword through your belly?” 

Henry Mills would scream at the pain that came with being run through, he knew he would, but he refused to let the terror show on his face. He would remain strong, he reminded himself as the guard approached the metal bars of his prison, like his mother. Emma was stronger than anyone he knew, and she had ridden off to meet the Evil Queen to bring her back to the battle, already having warred against a dragon. He would be strong, he reaffirmed, though his strength as of yet had only brought him to the furthest reaches of a dungeon beneath his grandparent’s castle. “Don’t we all bleed red?” Henry asked, fingers wrapped around the bars, standing tall. “Or do you think you bleed blue because of your title, George?” 

The King stepped forward, grinning at the sight of the Prince in his prison. “How terribly clever you are, boy, but you’re wrong. I don’t bleed blue because of a title, I bleed blue because of my bloodline. And you, little Prince, I think you might bleed as red as your imp of a grandfather. It’s a pity you aren’t imbued with the same dark magic as he is, for, I fear, there might come a day soon when I see your blood mingle with the dirt and muck on the floors of the White Queen’s throne room.” 

“My mom would kill you first,” Henry replied haughtily, showing no fear though his hands trembled against the chilled bars. He was terrified and quite tired of being threatened; it was then that he longed for the days when his greatest concern was getting caught by the Evil Queen while planning out operations with the Savior. It had all seemed so easy then. “She would-”

“Are you so sure she would step forward to protect the son who would have seen her destroyed in the other world?” George asked, curiously. “You seem to forget that we all remember what it was like there, watching the mayor’s son run around behind her back plotting her demise, and some of us never took too kindly to the notion. Prince you might be now, but I happen to remember the spoiled child who called his mother evil and left her frantic in her home while he roamed the town with the precious savior. Tell me, Henry, why would she save you now? Why would she risk her life for that of an ungrateful son’s?” 

No, he wasn’t sure at all. Cold, hungry, and terrified of a king’s vengeance, Henry shook his head and stared wild-eyed at the monarch who posed so easily as a guard. The floor to his convictions shifted beneath his grasp as he fought to find reason why his mother would come rescue him. The mirror trick, the one that led him to the dungeons had left him feeling cold from the static words she told him. It was in the way she refused to let him issue an apology and the callous way she turned from the mirror, and from him, to allow his other mother time to speak. “Because she loves me,” he finally said, and held onto that belief. Like she had once said, genetics don’t matter, not when it came to family and love. 

“A mother’s love,” the King repeated, rolling the words in an exaggerated fashion over his tongue. “Perhaps. But what of a father’s love, my boy? Or in the case of a husband’s love for his wife? Would that not trump her desires to let you live if her husband ordered your exile into the deep of the woods? If a king ordered you banished from the kingdom?” 

“What?” His mother wasn’t married, and the king spoke so freely that he sounded as crazy as Sydney before he had been hauled away to wherever he went. Henry reared back from the edge of the cell and stared thoughtfully at the monarch, trying to discern his intentions. If he meant to scare the boy, then he succeeded. “My mom wouldn’t-”

George laughed, a rolling belly laugh that resonated against the stone walls and through the bars that separated the various prisoners left to rot. “Not unless she had no other choice, boy. There’ll come a day when Snow White and her Prince are long dead and the throne will need a Queen to sit upon it. Pity should Xavier’s granddaughter not sit back upon it. More the pity should she not have a strong king beside her to reunite the kingdoms once more, but, and listen carefully to me, son, there’s no room for an ill-bred, treasonous prince with the loyalty of a rat. She’ll do it for the power I can give her. You’ll soon follow the way of your grandparents once I have my Queen, young enough to produce an heir, and my throne.” 

“Emma will never let you do that, and my mom wouldn’t marry you if you were the last person on Earth!” 

“Ah, yes, the precious savior. I had wondered when you would bring her name into conversation. Truthfully, I had hoped it would take longer before I had to hear that foul woman’s name. Would you believe she thought she out-smarted my guards on the road to the Winter Palace? Yes, she ran away from them in a fit of genius, only to appear in the place where they were taking her.” He stroked the emblem on his chest and scowled at the infernal symbol. “They all think they’re terribly clever, your family, don’t they? The savior has run off to beg for the Evil Queen’s assistance while your grandparents plan to strike the knights who’ve begun to amass on the road come the next sunrise. But who, Henry, will watch their flanks when the executioners stride through their halls and cut down all in their path? Do you think the shepherd-prince can slay them all?” 

Foolishness raced through his veins as the Prince considered his options. An intelligent boy for his years, he had already seen the destruction of his faith in the short time the king had spent goading him and knew it would be foolish to continue. The King was cold, calculating, and seemed to know more about the events at hand than any of the other parties. Where Emma had escaped, the king had merely changed his plan and found another way to win, and where his mother would surely protest a marriage between the two kingdoms, the Prince was unsure of his fate in the matter. “You’re going to lose,” he said, lowly. “You’re going to lose and then they’re going to kill you.” 

“Should I have your grandparents beheaded or offer them a bloodless death? Hangings always held a special appeal. Or, perhaps, I should offer their hearts to your dear mother, that is, if I recall, her preferred method of execution and she’s longed for so long to have the heart of Snow White in her grasp.” George grinned wildly, grey eyes alit. “I think that would make a fine wedding gift, would it not? A fine way to bind the kingdoms together in harmony.” 

“She’ll rip your heart out first.” 

“And would you still call her evil? Would you condemn her to this place once more, or would it be in the name of Good if it saved your life and the lives of those you truly value? Find the shades of grey, my boy, and you might have a fighting chance in the woods, provided a wolf doesn’t find you particularly appetizing before the next winter storm.” 

If the Prince kept his wits about him, he would have ignored the taunts from the power-hungry King. He would recognize the absurdity in the notion that the man would hold the power to make the Prince disappear from the yet-to-be-written history books, even more so the unlikely premise that the Evil Queen would release the boy she fought so hard for in another world. But, as Henry let his thoughts roll over the words lingering in the air, he found himself more unsure than ever. 

Shades of grey threatened to thrash through the carefully constructed rigid values of black and white he had been taught. If his mother wasn’t evil when, and if, she saved his life, then did that make him evil to wish harm on the king who called him a bastard? And if he was evil, then what would happen to the others he condemned to death to save his mothers and his grandparents? Did his mothers even know who he was with? Or did they believe he was in the safety of the dungeons surrounded by those who had been entranced by the Evil Queen’s vulnerable state? 

“It must be a terrible feeling, Henry, to not know if your own mother will save you,” George stated and turned to the entrance of the dungeon, “But I’m sure that feeling will pass as soon as the swords begin to clash above. There’s nothing like the thrill of battle to make a man forget all of the other worries that plague his life, and you, Henry, would do best to thrill in the battle rather than ponder what fate awaits you when the Queen takes the throne. Alas, I don’t have the time to consider all the possibilities with now, boy. You see, I’m needed upstairs for an important meeting with your grandparents. May the heavens bless their souls.” 

The boy dropped into a prickly patch of straw and buried his feet within its limited warmth. He despised riddles and, more so, he despised those riddles to which he didn’t have a clue as to solve it. He would have to get out, find himself on the other side of the walls. Blind faith and love had gotten him into the mess, and it could surely get him back out of it. “George!” He hollered, making as much noise as possible to bring back the king. “I need to talk to you, you coward! Get back here!” 

“He won’t come back,” a voice from behind him stated, plainly. “He’s a king, and he’s said his piece. There’s nothing you can do that’ll convince him to walk back here and listen to you.” 

Hidden in the shadows, the man’s haggard presence lingered near the furthest wall of the cell and that bothered the boy more than he let on. He didn’t trust what he couldn’t see, and what he couldn’t see wasn’t worth the deflection of his plan. “George! I’m ready to talk to you!” 

Breaking through the dark, the man moved forward, slowly revealing himself to the Prince. Grinding at his stubbly beard with a clumsy hand, he laid the other over Henry’s shoulder and pulled him away from the edge of the cell. “I thought Regina’s son would listen better than you do. He’s not coming back, Henry, and there’s no amount of yelling that’s going to change that fact, so sit down, warm yourself, and wait until the time for action.” 

“You know my mom?” Henry blinked wide-eyed at the stranger. “How did you know my mom? Were you in Storybrooke? Who were you?” A long pause. “I know, you’re Robin Hood, aren’t you?” 

“Regina said you had a creative imagination.” The stranger shrugged, offering the Prince an allotment of straw in the back of the cell with the barest wave of his hand. “But no, I’m not Robin Hood, nor was I in Storybrooke. I left the Enchanted Forest long before your mom was ever born; definitely long before Emma was ever born.” 

“You know Emma, too?” 

The dungeon was alit with the faint trace of numerous torches in the stairway that led to where the more fortunate resided. Eyes alert and focused on the entrance to the dungeon, the stranger placed himself between the Prince and the bars. “Stay quiet and in the shadows, Henry. I’ll tell you everything you want to know about your mom and Emma after they’re gone.”

He bowed his head low onto his chest, acknowledging the request for his silence, but the thoughts of who the man might be to know both of his mothers threatened to trample his chest. Still, Henry remained in the shadows of the cell, watching the stranger interact casually with the guards and servants who fluttered about the narrow, dirt-strewn hallway passing out morsels of bread and goblets of water to the prisoners. 

Stranger or not, he took the offered portions and, after pocketing one bit of extra bread, turned back to the prince with a small, lopsided grin. “Extra tonight,” he declared, “on the orders of the White Queen. Guess that means another one of us’ll go up tomorrow and never come back down or there’s war on the horizon and she wants to build loyalty from below ground.” 

Henry accepted his portion of mealy bread without a sound, breaking it into small bits to savor. “Who are you? If you weren’t in Storybrooke and you left before the curse hit, then who are you?” 

“Depends who you ask,” the man said around a mouthful of bread. “For more years than I was in the Enchanted Forest, I went by Neal Cassidy, but that doesn’t really matter to Snow White and Prince Charming. All they saw me as, when I showed up here instead of my apartment, was Rumplestiltskin’s son. So, you can call me either Neal or Baelfire; both are accurate enough.” He swallowed around a mouthful. “See that cell back there? It’s empty now and has been since your mom made her great escape.” 

“There’s water leaking from the ceiling,” Henry noted, quietly appraising the small box-like area the Evil Queen was kept in. It was smaller than the others and concealed in the shadows; the perfect place to drive anyone mad should they forget for a second where they were. 

Neal nodded. “The third month we were down here, after I’d finally gotten her to talk to me, she came down with a cold. For a few days, I thought it was going to morph into pneumonia. Then, I started thinking that she might have done it on purpose, sat under the water and let herself get sick, when she didn’t so much as complain when the coughing started. I’ve never met anyone like her.” 

“You like her,” the prince accused, sullenly. Who was this man and why did he speak about the Evil Queen like she was a friend? 

“She became one of my best friends, at least that’s what I told myself.” 

“And Emma? You knew Emma, too, didn’t you?” 

Cramming the rest of the bread into his mouth and staring at the piece held in the prince’s hand, Neal stumbled over his thoughts on how to answer the question. Things were easier when he hadn’t had to deal with the politics of the old world; easier when all he had to do was show up at work, pay rent, and forget about magic and the corruption it brought. “Emma Swan,” he said, reminiscently. “Provided it’s the same one I remember trying to steal my Bug, then yeah I knew her. Spent some time thinking we could have been a family, too.” 

Henry’s features scrunched until he looked elven in nature. With his hands wrapped around his morsel, the tiniest bit stuck to the inside of his cheek where it melted into almost nothing, he frowned at Neal. “You were, like, her boyfriend? And that would make me-” 

“No DNA tests here, Henry, but it’s a nice thought to think something good came out of our relationship. Though, don’t get your hopes up, she’s not going to want to see me after all this time. Regina, either. I left Emma to go to prison because I couldn’t suck it up and tell Pinocchio to go to hell, and I refused to follow Regina because I didn’t know if I could take the possibility of an execution for helping her escape. I was no Prince Charming, Henry, and you should know-”

“You’re my dad,” the boy replied, in awe of the change in events. “Most likely, anyway.” He offered the rest of his bread to the man who was likely his father with nothing more than an extended hand. “I ate earlier and this bread is disgusting. And, she’s not going to hate you. When mom and Emma kicks everyone’s asses, then we could live together; get a castle or something.” 

“Language, kid,” Neal scolded around a bite of bread. Its taste was foul, much like that of over ripened fruit or soured milk, but it was the only thing offered. “The world doesn’t work like that, Henry. When Emma and I...split up, I already knew that I wasn’t it for her. She’s as faithful as they come, but I wasn’t what she wanted for the rest of her life, so get out any of those hopes and dreams that we’re going to settle down in some strange approximation of true love like your grandparents. It’s not going to happen. Besides, I’m engaged...or at least I was before I dragged back here. Maybe your moms would be willing to rent me a room, though, somewhere near the kitchen where I can get some food that doesn’t come complete with worms, until I can find a way back to the other world.” 

When he was a younger boy, of seven or eight, he dreamed about a day when his family would be complete. More complete than his mother and he, and the sadness that flickered in her eyes whenever he mentioned how much he wanted a father. Graham had been suitable for a long minute, enough to make him forget that the families in the park weren’t like his but even Graham had gone home at night, leaving them alone. 

“I won’t stay here, Henry,” Neal continued with a long, heavy sigh. “When I was younger, about your age, I was given safe passage to a land without magic; somewhere I could escape from my father and the power he sought. It was a relief, to be there, to live without magic controlling my life. There was little death, Henry, and the ones I witnessed weren’t because a soldier dared to confront the Dark One. There’s-”

“I don’t want to be here, either.” The Prince bit his lower lip and waited for the mocking to commence. By blood and by title, he was exempt from many of the hardships that occurred down in the villages that surrounded the castle, except for the finality of death. “I want to go home and read my comic books, not study the kingdom’s history. I don’t want to be the prince of anything; I just want to be Henry.”


	19. Chapter 19

When their incarceration was revoked, the half-breed wolf and her human companion freed, the sun had already sunken behind the mountains that surrounded the pack’s cave. Without the light from above, they were remiss to begin their trek back through the woods to report what they had found to the Queen. Instead, Ruby focused on bedding down for the night, reminding herself that she had bunked with enemies before who had wanted her hide and that she had already taken on one of the strongest the pack had ever seen. That thought only brought heartache, though, and she fussed with the straw which served as her blanket against the warring cold breaching the front entrance to the cave. 

“I’d sleep, if I were you,” Marcus advised in a nasal voice as he sniffled against the bitter cold lodged in his throat. Not even the straw could help them, it seemed, and he was loathe to ask their former captors for anything warmer for fear that it might be the hide of an unlucky captive who hadn’t had the pleasure of making threats of the darkest kind. An Evil Queen, he had come to understand, was a threat that even the notorious wolves of the Enchanted Forest feared and without promised protection, they had due cause to fret about in the deep crevices of their home. “It’ll be daylight soon and I’m not sure our friends will be so accommodating if we choose to spend another night in this hovel.” 

“I’ll take watch,” came Ruby’s low, whispered response as she rearranged the scant straw shavings over her feet. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. She had become accustomed to laying about the palace, draped in furs and warmed by the torches alit on nearly every wall. Her simple outfit consisting of dark tan breeches and black tunic did nothing against the chill that swept by them. “I don’t need much sleep, anyway. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to do much against them if they decided to attack while I slept.” 

“And you would be able to slay them in your sleep-deprived state? I hardly think so, wolf.” Marcus replied, leaning over to catch a stray strand of hair from his companion’s face. “And I don’t think the Queen would be so accommodating should I return without her favorite wolf. Not even the Savior would be able to reason with her to let me keep my heart and I’m quite fond of it, I’ll have you know.” 

Frowning, Ruby fussed against his palm for a brief moment until she came back to her senses. The stablehand was nothing more than someone she could offer a hand to in his time of need; a man who had wanted to sell a pretty girl a cow and offer his head and sword to a Queen. He didn’t need to fawn over her to make his position within the court known. “We can move out before first light,” she said quietly, not wanting to wake the guard positioned in the doorway. “I know the woods here well enough to find my way back to the Queen’s road. Once there, we’ll be under the protection of the guards patrolling the area.” 

He pulled back his hand and buried it under the straw. “Of course. Enhanced senses, I presume? You should be able to get us out of this den and into the civilized world before supper. There’s something to be said about being a half-”

A piercing howl cut off the rest of his statement as they both spun to face the front entrance to the cave, illuminated by the dim light of torches. It was only the sound of rushing feet that spurred Ruby into action, forcing her body out of its bed and into the chilled night air. There, she smelled the stench of new death and the harsh whisper of copper in the air. It was faint, like the fatal blow had only just been struck without much fanfare preluding it. 

Her stomach roiled when she followed the scent far enough into the dense woods to find the beginning patch of bloody snow. The heavy trail of footprints took over when she couldn’t stand to smell the stench surrounding her, leading her to a semi-circle of bloodied men standing over the body of the woman who had negotiated with her for freedom. Rhoda, someone she might have considered a friend in another life had things been different, continued to bleed out, stark red against the dirt and leftover snow from the last storm. 

A hand clenched against her bicep as Ruby stared at the blank faces that surrounded the dying woman, not a one of them making a move to help. “She’ll be dead long before the sun rises,” Marcus said from beside her, wrapping his free arm around the wolf to prevent her from delivering aid to the fallen woman. “And there’s nothing that will stop her from dying; nothing you can do to stop the bleeding. They’ve cut her throat in the mark of a traitor.” 

“I can’t...I can’t just stand here and let her-” Ruby cried out, harshly, staring into the eyes of the murderers who watched their kill die a slow death at their feet. “She...she didn’t do anything-”

“Betrayal,” one of the men said, gruffly. “The traitor wanted to betray the Queen’s favored in order to take the title for herself.” Nearly bare and covered in blood, he stood before the captives for a long moment before he moved to kneel at their feet with his head bowed. “You’ll forgive us, Red, we were only looking out for the safety of Anita’s daughter. That one,” he added with a finger aimed at the nearly dead woman, “wished to kill you and your companion while you slept, then report to the Queen with word that you had been massacred by an army headed by the White Queen.”

“Then we offer our gratitude to you,” Marcus replied with a heavy nod to the men who had spared their lives and taken another in the process. “And if it’s not too much trouble, ask for continued assistance to the road. We’ll make our way through the night and-”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” the man said as he rose to his feet. Standing a few inches taller than the stablehand, his impressive frame commanded attention. “There are poachers who traverse this kingdom and sell the pelts in others during the night hours; no telling what they would do if they found a piece to ransom wandering about. It wouldn’t be safe for you to try to make it back without the speed of horses and benefit of an army surrounding you. If you don’t mind spending the rest of the night with us, the pack will travel with you to meet with the Queen and offer our services in her name.” He brushed his fingers down his bare torso and grimaced at the blood, looking almost sheepish when he met Ruby’s eye. “I’m ashamed to have met you again like this, Red, but I hope you know we only did it to ensure your safety.” 

Ruby merely nodded in response, unable to tear her eyes off the woman who gurgled around the blood trickling from her throat. It had been a gruesome kill, full of anger and bloodlust. She turned and buried her head into the stablehand’s chest, grateful for his presence even if she was unsure of his intentions. Perhaps he meant to keep her safe as a way to influence Regina’s favor to fall more squarely on his shoulders when the time came for him to wield a sword against those who would see her dead, and maybe, just maybe, he meant to stay and offer small gestures because he saw the woman behind the wolf and wanted to keep her safe from harm. Either way, she leaned fully into him and drew in the musky scent from his clothing. 

Broad of shoulder and thick of chest, the man stood before them, head cocked to the side as he considered their chilled state. “You’ll need furs to keep warm tonight and food for the travel back to the palace. We can provide both of those to you if you would be willing to venture further into our home. I can personally assure you that all of these men,” he gestured to those standing behind him, “are ready, willing, and able to provide protection for the daughter of Anita and her companion should the situation warrant.” 

The men behind him nodded along with their leader as they strode, one by one, away from the dying woman, carefully dragging their feet away from the puddle of blood that saturated the ground beneath and around her. “The traitor is done for,” one of them said, lowly, “and so you’ll have nothing more to fear. The bindings were her idea from the start, not ours. Without provocation, you pose no threat, Red.” 

Ruby turned to face the men who had murdered in her name and found nothing but sincere faces looking back at her with sympathetic eyes. “I’m a traitor, too,” she said, raggedly, bracing her feet against the hard-packed soil. “I killed my mother-”

“To protect a friend,” the leader interrupted in a forceful tone. “You showed compassion and loyalty to a friend even when your mother and others sought to slaughter her where she stood. There are some of us who understand what it means to stand on compassion, no matter the price. For that, we stand beside you, Red, and for protection, we stand beside the Queen who protects us from the huntsmen’s cull.” He stepped forward and nodded briefly to the stablehand by the wolf’s side. “We should get you out of the cold before you freeze. Spring has yet to come and the night will only get colder.” 

“Is she?” Ruby gestured in the direction of Rhoda, staring blankly at the still-twitching body. “I can’t let her die alone,” she whispered a moment later when none had seen fit to answer her question. “You said I showed compassion towards my mother, and now I’m asking you to show compassion towards your leader.” 

“Former,” the man growled. “She’ll be dead come morning and feed for some lucky beast.” He stepped back and shook his head. “There are many I have shown compassion to in the past, Red, but I will not show compassion to a traitor who slaughtered every man, woman, and child she came across in the other kingdoms before running back into the protected lands before the villagers could find the murderer of their dead.” 

“I can’t leave her out here to die alone,” Ruby replied, whispered over the gust of wind that threatened through the trees. Wrapping her arms about her chest, her eyes were drawn to the fallen woman and her writhing body against the picturesque white snow broken by the dark stain of blood beneath her.

“Then you can finish the kill yourself,” one of the others said, breaking through the invisible boundary that kept him with the rest of the pack. He handed the young woman a dagger, steely blue eyes enticing her with the promise of a quick death for their former leader if she wielded the sharpened weapon. “But Ronin speaks for all of us when he says we cannot finish the kill.” 

She took the dagger, feeling the cold blade against her bare palm, and trudged through the mud to the fallen woman. Kneeling beside her, knees awash in blood and grime, she turned sympathetic eyes on her mother’s longtime companion. The wounds on her throat were shallow, Ruby noticed, just enough to allow the blood to weep and keep the older wolf from fighting back. “I’m offering you compassion,” she whispered low into the woman’s ear, bending over her trembling body.

Rhoda’s eyes widened at the sight of the dagger, her hands grasping at the wounds lacing her throat in an attempt to stop the steady flow of blood. Her eyes narrowed a moment later, still fixated on the blade the younger woman held loosely in her hand. Death was imminent, all that was left to decide was how long she wanted it to be before she took her final breath. Her palm, sticky with red, reached out and laid flat against Red’s forearm as she nodded weakly. Her other hand moved reluctantly from the fatal wound and rested over her heart, one finger extended to show the young wolf where she wanted the final blow dealt. 

It would be quick, Ruby determined as she alternated her gaze between the woman’s heart and eyes. Then, and only then, could she bury the dead under a thin layer of soil to protect her body from the vultures that frequented what was left of another’s kill. It would be quick, she told herself again as she positioned the dagger, but not at all easy to reconcile later when she lay alone in her room with only her conscience as company. 

Then, she felt another hand over hers, steadying it over the woman’s chest. “Hard and fast,” Marcus said quietly as he took up position beside his companion. “Any hesitation and she’ll suffer more for it.” His hand covered the hilt of the dagger, slowly replacing Ruby’s own fingers as he deftly removed it from her grasp. Moments later, he dealt the killing blow, letting the elder wolf pass on with nary a cry on her lips. “There’s a half-dug hole over the ridge, there, possibly from a fox. It’s likely moved on until the warmer weather and won’t mind if we use the place for a grave,” he said once he closed Rhoda’s eyes for the final time, saying a brief, silent prayer for her soul. 

“Y-you...why did you do that?”

“Because,” he began, gathering the body against his chest in preparation to move her, “Because you wouldn’t have forgiven yourself later, no matter your intentions. What you wanted to do was in mercy, but the hesitation in your hand would have caused her more pain. It’s different here than in battle. Out there, when it counts, there isn’t time to think about the consequences of killing another; only the thought of your own life and limb. You were thinking too hard about the ways to save her life when there wasn’t anything left to save, so I took the opportunity to spare you the guilt.” With quick strides, he moved to the hastily dug hole and dropped the body in, covering it over with dirt. 

“I would have done it,” Ruby argued as she dropped to her knees to help with the burial. Her hands cast the ice from the dirt, letting it fall over the bloodied corpse in a haphazard fashion until it was fully buried. “I could have done it,” she repeated when it was over. “I just needed time to-”

“To rationalize it to yourself,” Marcus supplied, rising to his feet above the brunette. “There was no need for you to do it when I could just as easily without the fear of nightmares later. That woman would have seen you killed while we slept; that’s reason enough for me to want her dead. A quick death was merely to appease you.” 

Accepting the offered hand, the woman stood beside the stablehand. “I guess you’re waiting for a thank you, huh?” 

“It’s not me you need to thank. Had I been the one to stop the wolf from her plan, then yes, I would be waiting for my prize. I believe you owe the pack, though, as they were the ones who initiated the slaughter for your protection.” His voice was halted, almost broken as he issued his relinquishment of what she thought she owed him. Tired eyes her own as he offered some semblance of regret for what he could not take credit for. 

There was a visible lag in her step as Ruby made her way to the largest of the men, Ronin as one of the others had called him. She nodded briefly in his direction before she said, “You saved my life, for that I owe you what you desire.” With that, she closed her eyes and tried to forget her Granny’s scolding voice when as a young girl of eight years she had proclaimed that the farmer’s young son had saved her from a fearsome tabby cat that roamed near their cottage. Granny had warned her of the old laws, those set by warmongering lords who sought the hand of maidens whom they saved from a dark fate. 

The wolf leader drew back a muscular arm and laid across the younger wolf’s back, drawing her closer to him as he started down the bloody path to the den. Others fell in line until it was only Marcus and a rangy-looking man covered from head to toe in scars near the gravesite. “You should’a ‘ccepted credit when she offered, boy,” the gnarled half-breed muttered. “Whatever was between you, I’d reckon it didn’t run too deep if yer so willin’ to hand ‘er off like a farmer’s daughter to the local butcher’s boy for nothing more than a couple ‘a pigs.” 

Overhearing the last of the statement, Ruby turned back and laid accusing eyes on the stableboy. “If you’ll give us horses, we’ll-”

“No horses to give, Red,” Ronin replied gruffly as he steered them around a patch of heavy snow left untouched beneath a clump of heavy trees. “They don’t tend to stay around our kind for very long. Yours, in fact, ran off sometime after you arrived, and I don’t rightly know where they went off to. You’ll stay the night, like I said, and then we’ll give an escort to the palace. I have business with the Queen now, don’t I?” He scratched at his chin in a thoughtful manner. “Can’t have her thinking I would just run off with her favorite wolf without her consent, can I?”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was posted at ff.net a while ago but never made it over here. Chapter 21 to come very soon (like today or tomorrow morning).

She did her best thinking when she was terrified to the point of complete exhaustion. The moment she wanted to give it all up and collapse against the nearest hard surface, that was when she formulated her best ideas. Before Henry’s birth, when she had nothing better to do but sit in her cell and think, she had concocted a plan to keep him, let the foster system take him until she was out of jail and back on her feet, then she would raise him herself, but that plan had been tossed away as soon the real work to move his tiny body out of hers began. Later in life, her plans to catch bail jumpers usually came to a head during a foot chase in which she had poorly chosen ill-fated heels while her prey had sensible dress shoes or sneakers. It was then, usually, that she realized there was more than one way to skin a cat and more than one way to catch a deadbeat- it ordinarily involved a ladder or a projectile of some sort. 

So when Emma found herself with no better course of action than to run in the general direction of the Evil Queen to get away from the dragon-witch who had issued threats of the non-specific sort, she found her mind generally spinning in other directions. There were plans to march back to the room where Maleficent held court, if only in her own mind, and slay the witch where she stood, and there were plans to drag Regina back and let her do it, for the sake of old friendships lost in the basement of an old library of a fictional town in Maine. Poetic justice, Emma decided. What was lost to the curse could be lost all over again in the place where it all began. 

But that wouldn’t be necessarily fair to the woman who already possessed a blackened heart, to ask her to take another life on the behalf of someone more than capable to do it herself. The war with Maleficent wasn’t Regina’s, not when the blonde witch seemed keen to keep the exiled queen on her throne, no matter the cost. It seemed that the war with Maleficent, and George, and whoever else was between them and the Charming family, which, unfortunately for him, included Henry. Only then did it become of interest to Regina, which, for Emma, meant that the honor of slaying the dragon was left to her. 

There was no good way to slay a dragon, though; no easy way that was documented as fool-proof in one of the tomes kept in the library, at least to her knowledge, and the threat of death was too great on top of the near certainty that someone she loved, if not herself, would be injured in the other war that lingered ahead. She wasn’t fool enough to think that Regina had already set in motion things she could not call back; Emma had seen the riders set off through the front gates and head to the main road that led to the other kingdoms. It didn’t take a genius to figure that they would be the first to breach whatever lines her parents had erected to protect themselves and their kingdom. But kings and queens never necessarily rode in the first wave, for the fear of loss to their own lives by themselves and the people they ruled. A dead king was a useless king, and without a strong heir, the kingdom would fall quicker than if the castle were breached after a grueling fight. 

Emma could only hope that the legends of her parents could withstand whatever pressures were placed upon them. Openly, she hoped that they had more common sense than she would have in the same situation and less hubris than Regina during the war between herself and the Charming family. As she crashed into wall after wall, skimming her body against the sharp corners of stone, Emma slowly weaseled through the destructive plans that arose in her mind to find one that didn’t land her on the ground with a sword through her chest or belly. 

There were too many players to keep in check their every move. From her early discussions with her parents, Emma decided that they were a wild card. Her mother wanted peace and quiet while her father would likely follow the plan Snow set forth into motion. Grievances warred between step-mother and step-daughter, and the assurances from one didn’t mean that the other would agree to the same terms, not with their past histories lingering overhead. Perhaps she should have paid closer attention to Henry’s book, Emma thought as she passed another silent guard. And what was the word of the Evil Queen? 

An ex-boyfriend had once said she was attracted to bad boys, but where did that line end? Emma shook her head. Great romance wasn’t built in the middle of battle by two former enemies, was it? She quickened her pace at the sound of raised voices, one distinctly female and very familiar. Deciding she could work through her growing attraction to the queen, whether for power or something more than lust, she pushed through the last couple feet until she stood in front of the open doorway. Glancing inside, Emma nearly shrank back at the withering look cast her way by the captain of the guard. 

The heat of the argument, Emma surmised as she stepped lightly into the room, keeping to the edges of its boundaries. Regina’s cheeks were slightly flushed, her head raised to glare upwards at the taller guard, but she looked no less imperious than at any other time Emma could remember in Storybrooke. There was something about all of that power that Regina somehow kept wrapped up tight that made Emma shiver. It wasn’t disgust, though, as she had originally thought when her mind ventured to the other woman. It was awe and almost tranquility that swept through her chaotic thoughts. For whatever reason, the imposing stand Regina made against her own army meant that whatever worries Emma had about going toe to toe with an enemy who knew all of her moves when she knew next to nothing about theirs would dissipate. 

“Are you going to stand there, dear, or do you have something to say?” Regina broke her gaze with the guard, dismissing him with nothing more than a simple wave of her hand, and turned to face the savior. Her eyes caught the confused expression moments before it was shaken off the blonde’s features and replaced with something more discreet to hide her intentions. 

Emma stood tall, keeping her focus on the resource that would solve the majority of her problems without much more than a request for loyalty during the fight and a chance to make things right with the boy who bridged them together. “I, uh-”

“We don’t have all day, Ms. Swan.” 

She moved closer to the long table, imagining it to be the equivalent of the round table that kept Lancelot and the other knights, and scrapped her knuckles against the broad top of it. The feel of grainy wood left impressions on her hands that was more than the indentations her fingers swept over. She found herself wondering how many battles, sieges, were planned at the same spot, and by how many of her relatives. The blood of kings ran through her veins, and suddenly everything Henry had babbled on about in Storybrooke, about how she was the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White seemed to click together. Where she was weak, Regina was strong; where Regina was fallible, she would rise to take command. Emma moved closer until she stood before the former mayor, tilting her head to the side to better observe the woman who had been her enemy for the better part of two years. 

Regina wasn’t inhuman; there was nothing particularly intimidating about her. Perhaps there was some intimidation that came with the power she exuded and had often exhibited, but to Emma, she was nothing more than an ally, Henry’s other mother, and the woman she desperately wanted to know more about. Another step closer brought her into the personal space they had both been so good at encroaching upon, breaking all norms simply for the benefit of one-upping the other. Emma brought her hands to Regina’s waist, feeling the tight muscle and undeniable curve that came with being a woman. Woman. Human like the rest of them. Capable of making a mistake. 

It wasn’t a mistake, though, if they both wanted the same thing, not even if it happened in the heat of the moment after a give and take of intimidating gestures. As she leaned forward to take advantage of Regina’s curiosity, Emma swore she could feel the pressure of the other woman’s fingers against her neck, a reminder of the power she had tried to exert over the blonde. It broke soon enough, though, and was replaced by a tender touch Emma had only known a handful of times before. “We’re gonna win,” the savior whispered when they broke apart, her hands still on the queen’s waist to grasp at some of that unwavering confidence that radiated from the brunette. 

“That was not entirely appropriate.” 

Emma shrugged her shoulders, immersed in the feel of another body against hers. “It’s not inappropriate if you want it, Regina. There’s nothing wrong with wanting someone to touch you, hold you, tell you everything is going to be fine.” She leaned over the other woman, thankful that the reappearance of the dangerously high heels hadn’t come about yet. As she tenderly dropped her lips against Regina’s neck, holding her close, her fingers found the dagger the queen kept strapped at her waist. Brushing against it, she felt Regina recoil. 

Once all contact was broken, Regina began to speak again. “What did she tell you? Maleficent.” 

“She asked me if I would cry when Prince Charming died,” Emma replied, flatly. “And then she said something about you being the true queen and how Henry would be in danger. Like we didn’t already know that.” She played it off, the feeling of insecurity that arose with the thought of more danger being directed to her son. In Storybrooke, the biggest danger to befall him was the occasional bully on the playground. Now, he had witches and kings to ward off. 

“And you? Did you say anything that might provoke her?” The queen remained standing, though she leaned heavily against a chair at the head of the table. Her dark eyes flashed to the door before returning to the savior’s green ones. “Emma, did you say anything that might provoke her?” 

The savior shrugged, again, in a fit of insecurity. There had been plenty of things said between both parties, and with an unhinged mind like Maleficent’s it wouldn’t take much to set her off. She was pretty sure there had been at least one threat issued to the dragon-witch, maybe more than that if she could recall the entire conversation that wasn’t blocked out by intense hatred and loathing. “I might’ve said something, but I really don’t remember much past her threatening my entire family.” 

“I figured as much.” Regina straightened her posture and stepped back into Emma’s personal space. Nose to nose, they could see each other better than most should-be enemies could. At the mines, when Henry was in trouble, there had been a spark of something; perhaps it was understanding or maybe it was something more. “You’re an unconventional ally, dear, and I fear that Maleficent would change her alliances in a mere heartbeat if she felt threatened by you.” 

“So, more people out to kill us?” It wasn’t true in the strictest sense of the word. Only the Charmings and their followers wanted Regina out of the picture; it was everyone else that Emma had to worry about. Good would prevail, wasn’t that what her mother said? 

“I wanted her contained,” Regina replied, ignoring the question altogether. It was a moot statement, anyway. No matter how many wanted to kill them, it would only take one to do it. At least one of those threats needed to be eliminated. “And I need you to help me do it.” 

Emma balked, the only thought that ran through her mind was a replay of the battle between herself and the dragon in the basement of the abandoned library in the center of town. In her mind, she heard the gunshots ring out as they grazed but never pierced the dragon’s hide, and she felt the sheer desperation zing through her veins when she realized that her father’s sword was the only way she would walk out of the battleground alive. “I can’t kill her again, Regina. I’m sorry, but I can’t do it again.” 

The queen shook her head. “I don’t need you to kill her again; wound her, whatever. I need to release someone more powerful than myself and I want to replace him with her in the prison your parents had built. I need Rumplestiltskin; we need Rumplestiltskin. No matter how much I’m loathed to admit it, he could be the difference between life and death here.” 

Rumplestiltskin, the notorious deal maker who never reneged on his promises. The same who had once taught the Evil Queen all of her tricks and ways with magic in order to cast a curse that would bring them to another world. “So, what? You want me to march into his cell and order him to help us? I don’t think it’s going to work that way, Regina. Last we saw him, he had tied you to a chair and left me to sit around in an old elevator shaft.” 

“I have something he desires. Something he’s been searching for for some time now,” Regina argued, fingers idly tracing Emma’s own. There was nothing with wanting someone to touch you. Wasn’t that what Emma said? Skin against skin bound her to the world, a reminder that her own life wasn’t the only one at stake. “But I need you to make assurances to him, on your word as the savior, that he’ll be granted what I have to offer when the danger has passed.” 

“He already knows where Belle is. It was part of the conditions of his incarceration,” Emma argued lightly as she pawed at Regina’s hands with all the skill and dexterity of a young pup. Plans and ploys came to mind, again, as she half-heartedly registered the element of surprise when it came to entrusting Rumplestiltskin with anyone’s interests but his own. 

“Not Belle,” Regina corrected, capturing the savior’s wandering hands. “I have something that he’s been looking for longer than Belle. The reason for the curse, the reason he couldn’t cast it himself; his son. I happen to know where his son is, and fortunately for us, he’ll have to assist if he wants to see his precious Baelfire alive again.” 

“His son? You’re going to hold his son over his head so he goes all bat-crap crazy on George and everyone else, then what? You’re just going to tell him where he is and leave them alone. Nothing more? You won’t get into another war with him?” And live happily ever after. Impossible, Emma thought as she tore her hands away to start pacing the length of the table. From wall to wall, her strides would be erratic, but from side to side of the table she could worry and keep Regina in sight. 

Rolling her eyes, the brunette stepped in front of the fuming savior and diverted her attention back to the problem at hand. In the future, there would be time to worry about the Dark One’s plans, but now the magic he could add to her own was the more pressing issue. “I believe the promise of his son is worth the risk, Emma, and I don’t plan on engaging the Dark One in another battle for power-”

“You’ve done it before? Tried to become more powerful than him? That’s great, Regina. So when he gets his son back, how do you know they won’t become the evil twosome?” 

“Because I know Neal,” the queen responded flatly. “And I know that a father’s love can sometimes be more powerful than even the most imminent threat of death. For Henry, Neal wouldn’t allow his father to challenge me. As my friend, I believe he would cast a vote to spare my life should Rumplestiltskin try to end it.” 

A part of her had always wanted to believe that the world would stop spinning if both halves of her life- the one where she was a screw up and the other where she become a savior- collided. Fairy tales had taught her that there was no such thing as coincidence, and Regina had taught her to believe in the inevitable. As cliche as it sounded, it was all for Henry in the end. “You know I’m freaked out by the fact that you’ve apparently figured out that Henry’s father is actually Rumplestiltskin’s son, right? And, I also have the worst damn luck when it comes to dating. Dark One’s son and now the Evil Queen-”

“We haven’t actually dated, dear.”

“When the war’s over and people don’t want to kill me, we’re going on a date; a proper one with flowers and chocolate and-” Emma paused. “That’s so not the point right now. How the hell do you know Neal? Is he around here somewhere?” 

“Considering my last residence, yes he’s around here somewhere, dear. In fact, I believe father and son should be having a chat right about now.” If she’d been wearing a watch, Regina might have tapped it for emphasis but as it was, batteries had a fairly short shelf life in the Enchanted Forest, if they had lasted the curse breaking at all. 

When things clicked, they clicked. “The dungeon. That’s why you sent Henry down to the dungeon. And now you want me to make promises to Rumplestiltskin for Neal, your apparent friend. Why don’t you do it?” 

“Because he owes me nothing and I’d prefer not to be in debt to him.” 

Emma closed her eyes for a long moment, savoring the silence that encapsulated the room. “Rumplestiltskin for Maleficent. Are you sure that’s not a fool’s deal?”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20 was posted earlier today, so you might want to consider reading that chapter before continuing onto this one. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who continues to read this story. I apologize for the delay in postings lately but I am currently working on correcting that so it will not happen again.

A fool’s deal seemed like a much simpler solution than running headlong into a fight where allies were just as likely as enemies to run a sword through your back. A sword, as Regina pointed out, that would likely be her own if the sheriff insisted on tossing it like a javelin at the opponent. The idea, she said, was not to arm the enemy with more weapons than they already had. And Emma understood that. Really, she understood that. But it was easier to simply lob the heavy metal sword at the nearest enemy rather than stand back and wait for said enemy to try to run her through with their own. It gave her the opportunity to flee the scene and regroup far, far, far away. 

Like in another world away. 

Which was precisely what she wanted to do when one of the soldiers she’d seen lounging about the halls suddenly thrust his axe in the direction of her belly. Dancing backwards and nearly colliding with the wall behind her, Emma scowled first at the guard who meant her harm and then the Queen who meant him to do her harm. “Little warning would have been nice, Regina,” she spat as she performed an elaborate dance away from the bloodthirsty man. “Really, just a heads up would’ve done. A ‘hey, Emma he’s about to try and kill you’!”

“The Rules of Engagement, as told by Emma Swan.” The dark-haired woman chuckled, wrapping her elegant hands around the golden-hued arms of her throne and leaning back to get a better view of the makeshift battlefield. “Tell me, dear, is your plan to inform everyone who wishes for your head to play by the rules you have instated? Or, are you simply going to toss them another weapon and plead for a quick and clean death?” 

Quick and clean sounded decent enough if it meant her head wouldn’t be bashed in by a heavy looking axe, Emma thought as she dashed behind the solitary throne. There was no comfort to be found, however, in using Regina as a blockade of sorts as, with a flick of her fingers, the sorceress had tossed the sheriff back into the playing field several yards in front of her without much effort at all. “When you said sword practice,” Emma muttered, ducking a high blow intended for her throat, “I didn’t think you meant right now. And I definitely didn’t think you’d just tell some guy to take my...” another blow aimed at her feet, “fucking head off. Kinda thought we were over all that...” and another to back her against the wall, “killing each other shit.” 

“It’s not about killing you, my dear,” Regina drawled. “Quite the contrary, in fact. In any other instance, I would have started you slower, perhaps with more warning and a considerable amount of training in how to keep hold of your weapon. However, the circumstances don’t allow for that, not if you’d like Henry to ever see the light of day outside the small, insignificant windows in the dungeon again.” Rising from her seat, she motioned for the haphazard attacks on the confused blonde to stop. “You’ve already fought a dragon, Emma, and won. To a point, that is, but you still came out alive, which is more than I can say for most of the men who previously tried to destroy Maleficent. If you could do that, then what is one insignificant guard?”

“He has an axe,” Emma said dryly, not daring to tear her eyes away from the man. “And something tells me he isn’t afraid to use it.” 

“And you have a sword. There is no difference between the skill level you could have and the one he has already mastered. The only difference is that he isn’t afraid to die.” 

Squinting into the dimming light of the room, Emma met the dark glance aimed her way. If that was the only difference between them, besides a good fifty pounds, then that division of power was going to stay, because she was afraid of dying. “I’d really prefer to keep my head where it is, Regina, but thanks for that pep talk.” 

Regina rolled her eyes and stepped into the makeshift battle arena. With a wave, she dismissed the guard and conjured her own weapon- a simple training sword that one of the children might have used in town. “It wasn’t meant to be a pep talk. My point was that he had nothing to lose except for his life. Our most basic instinct is to preserve that life, which is why he wasn’t afraid to kill you if it came down to his life or yours. You were more concerned about fleeing the attack without doing a thing to prevent it from happening in the first place, which left you open to injury.” 

“Are you saying I wouldn’t kill him to save myself? ‘Cause that would be just suicidal to stand there. And I definitely wasn’t just standing there.” Emma countered the fact as she relaxed enough to collapse in boneless heap on the nearest chair. “Pretty sure I already made myself clear when I said I’d do anything. Besides, it was just a training thing, wasn’t it?” 

The brunette leaned on the thin weapon, delicately balancing her weight against it. “You also weren’t doing a damned thing to head off the attack before it forced you to move and become vulnerable. What would you have done if I’d issued an order for your death? If he would have taken that last step and went for a lethal blow? What would you have done then?” 

“Honestly? Probably asked you if you were out of your mind.” Contemplating her own death had never been quite so prominent in the forefront of her mind before, and she honestly didn’t like the macabre thoughts there. In books, weren’t the pep talks before battle supposed to be about finding gold and treasures, not about how everyone would likely die a gruesome death? “And in what world were any of those meant to not be ‘lethal blows?” 

“Before or after he eviscerated you?” 

“Definitely before,” Emma answered with a sharp nod of her head. As Regina had said, she’d already proven herself against a dragon. If both wanted to kill her, then what would have been the difference between defending her life from either one? It was an easy answer to find- his eyes. A dragon was a dragon, but seeing a man’s life flash through his eyes was another thing altogether. “Look, it’s not a big deal. When it comes down to it, I’ll do whatever it takes. It doesn’t matter if I couldn’t...what are you doing?” 

Regina straightened her spine and held the sword aloft, balancing its weight between her fingers as she waited for Emma to mimic her stance. “No gimmicks, no magic, and no unfair training advantages. I’ve never needed to use a sword in the past, so you might have the upper hand here, except, like our friend, I’m not afraid to die anymore.” 

Shaking her head, Emma rose to her feet but left her own weapon aimed at the floor. “I’m not fighting you,” she said. “Whatever jacked up death wish you’ve got working right now, I’m not playing into it. I don’t want to die, I want to live, and playing knights with you isn’t going to change that. I get what I need to do and if it comes down to it, I’ll do it in a heartbeat but this isn’t going to help. I don’t need to prove this to myself or anyone else. I’m not going to stand here and...dammit, Regina!” 

The tip of the sword nicked her pants, cleaving a sliver in the fabric several inches down from her ribcage. She heard rather than felt the tearing of the fabric from her skin, and when she looked down, there was nothing in Regina’s eyes that suggested a training session was in order. The sorceress’ eyes were pitch black, firmly intent on the blonde target that dashed and danced across the room in an inelegant dance to preserve her life. “Seriously, Regina, I’m not doing this.” 

Another swipe of the sword nearly disassembled the stays on her pants, but Emma refused to return the parries. Instead, she met blade for blade in a weak attempt to hold the Queen off until reason could persuade her to stop. “You need to stop now, Regina. I’m not the enemy here and...would you fucking stop trying to kill me...or undress me? What is your fascination with my pants?” 

“Fight back!” 

Emma dropped to the floor, leaving her weapon in the last place she had stood against the attack, and covered her chest with folded arms. On her knees, she waited for the training session to end. Whatever results Regina wanted, she wasn’t going to be the one to give them to her. “Not you,” she said in an easy, even tone. “I’m not fighting you again, not even like this. You want me to learn like this, then call back in your boy with the axe, but not you.” 

The sword wavered in the air, mere inches from the savior’s nose, until, finally, it released and fell to the ground. “Why?” Regina asked quietly, leaving the scene to find comfort on her throne. She collapsed bonelessly into it and awaited for the Swan reasoning sure to come. 

Emma stood. “Because it was useless. I was never going to try to take a swing at you, so what was the point? I don’t react because I’m told to, Regina; I react because I have to.” Sitting on the arm of the throne, she risked a glance down at the queen and grinned at the quirked brow she received in response. “Maleficent tried to kill me, so I tried to kill her. It’s really as simple as that. What you were doing- and, seriously, what is your fascination with my pants- was more like flirting.” 

“Flirting, dear?” 

That dark eyebrow was going to be the death of her, Emma was sure of it. “Yeah. Kind of like what you did every single time you ragged on me in Storybrooke. Subtlety, you are not, Regina. Which, by the way, didn’t we need to see Mr. Gold or- God help me for this- Rumplestiltskin sometime soon? Not that I’m not liking your cozy digs here, but...it’s drafty and I’m not so fond of the color black anymore.” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“On you,” Emma conceded, “Not on every single wall in this place. Seriously, you need an interior decorator or something. Color is your friend, Regina, embrace it.” 

Regina waved it off, and Emma off the arm of her throne. “If you’re so very anxious to see Rumplestiltskin, then-”

“Hold it!” The blonde held up her hands to prevent whatever bad thing (undoubtedly) was about to happen. “I never said I was anxious to see him. In fact, if I had my way I would go the rest of my life without seeing him again. It’s just...well, I think I’m actually to the point of disliking Maleficent more than Gold right now and if he can make her go away then I’m all for seeing him in his itty bitty little prison cell.” 

“It’s more than just a prison cell, dear. It’s a containment area for his magic. Within it, he won’t be able to pull a rabbit from within a hat, let alone anything more than that.” 

Emma shrugged. It didn’t really matter much if the man was locked away in Alcatraz or not. What did matter was that he was useful without extracting all sorts of promises for golden geese or her firstborn child or a one-way ticket to Mars. Actually, the last thing might make life more pleasant for her if he was to request it. “Whatever.” 

The first thing she thought of when Regina’s hand clasped around her forearm was that it was warm, and pleasant, and secondly, that Regina smelled faintly of apples and spice and a day’s worth of home-cooking and- 

Well, fuck all of that. 

Her head spun as her feet made contact with the dirt floor that was very much not a part of the Winter Castle. In her peripheral, she thought she saw armed guards but she couldn’t be sure if they were just a figment of imagination or not as they disappeared a quick second later. “Warning, Regina. A little bit of warning goes a long way, especially when you’re going to pull that purple smoke poof-ing crap. It’s bad enough we’re here to deal with Mr. Can’t Say a Damn Thing Straight. I don’t need to deal with the poof-ing stuff on top of it. Now, where is he?” 

“Hello, dearie.”


End file.
